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UNIVERSITY  OF 
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Form  No  313. 
Rev.  1/84 

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villi  mm, 


J 
THE 

PLANTER'S   NORTHERN  BRIDE. 


BY  MRS.  CAROLINE  LEE  IIESTZ. 

AUTHOR   OF   "LINDA,"   "RENA,"    "LOVE   AFTER    MARRIAGE,"    " ROBERI 
GRAHAM,"  "EOLINE,"  "COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE,"  ETC. 


"  I  saw  her,  and  T  lov'd  her — I  Fought  her  and  I  won  ; 
A  dozen  pleasant  summers,  and  more,  since  then  have  run; 
And  half  as  many  voices  now  prattling  by  her  side, 
Remind  me  of  the  autumu  when  she  became  my  bride." 

Thomas  MadceUar. 
"Nothing  shall  assuage 
Your  love  hut  marriage:  for  such  is 
The  tying  of  two  in  wedlock,  as  is 
The  tuning  of  two  lutes  in  one  key:  for 
Striking  the  strings  of  the  one,  straws  will  stir 
Unou  the  strings  of  the  other;  and  in 
Two  minds  linked  in  love,  one  cannot  be 
Delighted,  but  the  other  rejoiceth." — Lilly's  Sappho. 


|3  1)  i  I  a  b  c  I  p  I)  i  a  : 
T.  B.  PETERSON,  NO.  102   CHESTNUT  STREET. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S54,  by 

A.  HART, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for 
the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


B.    B.    HEARS,    STEREOTYPER.  T.    K.    &   P.    G.    COLLINS,    PRINTERS. 


PREFACE. 

It  was  the  intention  of  the  author  to  have 
given  this  book  to  the  world  during  the  course 
of  the  past  season,  but  unforeseen  occurrences 
have  prevented  the  accomplishment  of  her  pur- 
pose. She  no  longer  regrets  the  delay,  as  she 
believes  it  will  meet  a  more  cordial  recejDtion  at 
the  present  time. 

When  individual  or  public  feeling  is  too  highly 
wrought  on  any  subject,  there  must  inevitably 
follow  a  reaction,  and  reason,  recovering  from  the 
effects  of  transient  inebriation,  is  ready  to  assert 
its  original  sovereignty. 

Not  in  the  spirit  of  egotism,  do  we  repeat  whr « 

was  said  in  the  preface  of  a  former  work,  that  we 

were  born  at  the  North,  and  though  destiny  has 

removed  us  far  from  our  native  scenes,  we  cherish 

for  them  a  sacred  regard,  an  imdvmcr  attachment. 

•j 
1 1 BEAR Y    UNIV.    OF 
HORTH  CAROLINA     , 


IV  PREFACE. 

It  cannot  therefore  be  supposed  that  we  are  ac- 
tuated by  hostility  or  prejudice,  in  endeavouring 
to  represent  the  unhappy  consequences  of  that 
intolerant  and  fanatical  spirit,  whose  fatal  influ- 
ence we  so  deeply  deplore. 

We  believe  that  there  are  a  host  of  noble, 
liberal  minds,  of  warm,  generous,  candid  hearts, 
at  the  North,  that  will  bear  us  out  in  our  views 
of  Southern  character,  and  that  feel  with  us  that 
our  national  honour  is  tarnished,  when  a  portion 
of  our  country  is  held  up  to  public  disgrace  and 
foreign  insult,  by  those,  too,  whom  every  feeling 
of  patriotism  should  lead  to  defend  it  from  igno- 
miny and  shield  it  from  dishonour.  The  hope 
that  they  will  appreciate  and  do  justice  to  our 
motives,  has  imparted  enthusiasm  to  our  feelings, 
and  energy  to  our  will,  in  the  prosecution  of  our 
literary  labour. 

When  we  have  seen  the  dark  and  horrible 
pictures  drawn  of  slavery  and  exhibited  to  a  gaz- 
ing world,  we  have  wondered  if  we  were  one  of 
those  favoured  individuals  to  whom  the  fair  side 
of  life  is  ever  turned,  or  whether  we  were  created 
with  a  moral  blindness,  incapable  of  distinguish- 
ing its  lights  and  shadows.  One  thing  is  certain, 
and  if  we  were  on  judicial  oath  we  would  repeat 


PREFACE.  V 

it,  that  during  our  residence  in  the  South,  we 
have  never  witnessed  one  scene  of  cruelty  or  op- 
pression, never  beheld  a  chain  or  a  manacle,  or 
the  infliction  of  a  punishment  more  severe  than 
parental  authority  would  be  justified  in  applying 
to  filial  disobedience  or  transgression.  This  is 
not  owing  to  our  being  placed  in  a  limited  sphere 
of  observation,  for  we  have  seen  and  studied  do- 
mestic, social,  and  plantation  life,  in  Carolina, 
Alabama,  Georgia,  and  Florida.  We  have  been 
admitted  into  close  and  familiar  communion  with 
numerous  families  in  each  of  these  States,  not 
merely  as  a  passing  visiter,  but  as  an  indwelling 
guest,  and  we  have  never  been  pained  by  an  in- 
human exercise  of  authority,  or  a  wanton  abuse 
of  power. 

On  the  contrary,  we  have  been  touched  and 
gratified  by  the  exhibition  of  affectionate  kind- 
ness and  care  on  one  side,  and  loyal  and  devoted 
attachment  on  the  other.  We  have  been  espe- 
cially struck  with  the  cheerfulness  and  content- 
ment of  the  slaves,  and  their  usually  elastic  and 
buoyant  spirits.  From  the  abundant  opportu- 
nities we  have  had  of  judging,  we  give  it  as  our 
honest  belief,  that  the  negroes  of  the  South  are 
1* 


VI  PREFACE. 

the  happiest  labouring  class  on  the  face  of  the 
globe ;  even  subtracting  from  their  portion  of  en- 
joyment all  that  can  truly  be  said  of  their  trials 
nnd  sufferings.  The  fugitives  who  fly  to  the 
Northern  States  are  no  proof  against  the  truth 
of  this  statement.  They  have  most  of  them  been 
made  disaffected  by  the  influence  of  others — - 
tempted  by  promises  which  are  seldom  fulfilled 
Even  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  the  seeds  of  discon- 
tent and  rebellion  were  sown ;  surely  we  need 
not  wonder  that  they  sometimes  take  root  in  the 
beautiful  groves  of  the  South. 

In  the  large  cities  we  have  heard  of  families 
who  were  cruel  to  their  slaves,  as  well  as  unna- 
turally severe  in  the  discipline  of  their  children. 
(Are  there  no  similar  instances  at  the  North  ?) 
But  the  indignant  feeling  which  any  known  in- 
stance of  inhumanity  calls  forth  at  the  South, 
proves  that  they  are  not  of  common  occurrence. 

We  have  conversed  a  great  deal  with  the  co- 
loured people,  feeling  the  deepest  interest  in 
learning  their  own  views  of  their  peculiar  situa- 
tion, and  we  have  almost  invariably  been  de- 
lighted and  affected  by  their  humble  devotion  to 
their  master's  family,  their  child-like,  affectionate 


PREFACE. 


reliance  on  their  care  and  protection,  and  above 
all,  with  their  genuine  cheerfulness  and  content- 
ment. 

This  very  morning,  since  commencing  these 
remarks,  our  sympathies  have  been  strongly 
moved  by  the  simple  eloquence  of  a  negro  wo- 
man in  speaking  of  her  former  master  and  mis- 
tress, who  have  been  dead  for  many  years. 

"Oh  !"  said  she,  her  eyes  swimming  with  tears, 
and  her  voice  choking  with  emotion,  "I  loved 
my  master  and  mistress  like  my  own  soul.  If  I 
could  have  died  in  their  stead,  I  would  gladly 
done  it.  I  would  have  gone  into  the  grave  and 
brought  them  up,  if  the  Lord  had  let  me  do  it. 
Oh !  they  were  so  good — so  kind.  All  on  us 
black  folks  would  'ave  laid  down  our  lives  for 
'em  at  any  minute." 

"Then  you  were  happy?"  we  said;  "you  did 
not  sigh  to  be  free  ?" 

"  No,  mistress,  that  I  didn't.  I  was  too  well 
off  for  that.  I  wouldn't  have  left  my  master  and 
mistress  for  all  the  freedom  in  the  world.  I'd 
left  my  own  father  and  mother  first.  I  loved 
'em  better  than  I  done  them.  I  loved  their  chil- 
dren too.     Every  one  of  'em  has  been  babies  in 


Vlll  PREFACE. 


my  arms — and  I  loved  'em  a  heap  better  than  I 
done  my  own,  I  want  to  stay  with  'em  as  long 
as  I  live,  and  I  know  they  will  take  care  of  me 
when  I  get  too  old  to  work." 

These  are  her  own  words.  We  have  not 
sought  this  simple  instance  of  faithful  and  endur- 
ing love.  It  came  to  us  as  if  in  corroboration  of 
our  previous  remarks,  and  we  could  not  help  re- 
cording it. 

The  history  of  Crissy  and  the  circumstances  of 
her  abduction  are  true. 

The  character  of  Dr.  Darley  is  drawn  from  life. 
Though  death  has  now  set  the  seal  of  eternity 
on  his  virtues,  we  would  not  violate  the  sanctity 
of  private  life  by  bringing  his  real  name  before 
the  public.  Should  those  he  loved  best  on  earth 
recognise  the  lineaments  we  have  attempted  to 
draw,  may  they  accept  this  imperfect  tribute  to 
his  exalted  worth,  his  brilliant  and  commanclimr 
talents,  as  well  as  his  pure  and  genuine  philan- 
thropy. 

Many  of  the  circumstance  we  have  recorded 
in  these  pages  are  founded  on  truth.  The  plot 
of  the  insurrection,  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
instigated  and  detected,  and  the  brief  history  of 


PREFACE. 


Nat,  the  giant,  with  his  domestication  in  a  North- 
ern family,  are  literally  true. 

If  any  one  should  think  the  affection  mani- 
fested by  the  slaves  of  Moreland  for  their  master 
is  too  highly  coloured,  we  would  refer  them  to 
the  sketch  of  Thomas  Jefferson's  arrival  at  Mou- 
ticello  on  his  return  from  Paris,  after  an  absence 
of  five  years.  It  is  from  the  pen  of  his  daughter, 
and  no  one  will  doubt  its  authenticity. 

"The  negroes  discovered  the  approach  of  the 
carriage  as  soon  as  it  reached  Shad  well,  and  such 
a  scene  I  never  witnessed  in  my  life.  They  col- 
lected in  crowds  around  it,  and  almost  drew  it 
up  the  mountain  by  hand.  The  shouting,  &c, 
had  been  sufficiently  obstreperous  before,  but  the 
moment  the  carriage  arrived  on  the  top  it  reached 
the  climax.  When  the  door  of  the  carriage  was 
opened,  they  received  him  in  their  arms  and  bore 
him  into  the  house,  crowding  around,  kissing  his 
hands  and  feet,  some  blubbering  and  crying, 
others  laughing.  It  appeared  impossible  to  satisfy 
their  eyes,  or  their  anxiety  to  touch,  and  even 
to  kiss  the  very  earth  that  bore  him.  These 
were  the  first  ebullitions  of  joy  for  his  return, 
after  a  long  absence,  which  they  would  of  course 


PREFACE. 


feel;  but  it  is  perhaps  not  out  of  place  to  acid 
here,  that  they  were  at  all  times  very  devoted  in 
their  attachment  to  their  master.  They  believed 
him  to  be  one  of  the  greatest,  and  they  knew  him 
to  be  one  of  the  best  of  men,  and  kindest  of  mas- 
ters. They  spoke  to  him  freely,  and  applied 
confidingly  to  him  in  all  their  difficulties  and 
distresses;  and  he  watched  over  them  in  sickness 
and  health ;  interested  himself  in  all  their  con- 
cerns ;  advising  them,  and  showing  esteem  and 
confidence  in  the  good,  and  indulgence  to  all." 

We  can  add  nothing  to  this  simple,  pathetic 
description.  Monticello  is  hallowed  ground,  and 
the  testimony  that  proceeds  from  its  venerated 
retreat  should  be  listened  to  with  respect  and 
confidence.  The  same  accents  might  be  heard 
from  Mount  Vernon's  august  shades,  where  the 
grave  of  Washington  has  been  bedewed  by  the 
tears  of  the  grateful  African. 

But  we  have  done. 

If  we  fail  to  accomplish  the  purpose  for  which 
we  have  written,  we  shall  at  least  have  the  con- 
solation of  knowing  that  our  motives  are  disin- 
terested, and  our  aim  patriotic  and  true. 

Should  no  Northern  heart  respond  to  our  ear- 


PREFACE. 


nest  appeal,  we  trust  the  voice  of  the  South  will 
answer  to  our  own,  not  in  a  faint,  cold,  dying 
echo,  but  in  a  full,  spontaneous  strain,  whose  re- 
verberations shall  reach  to  the  green  hills  and 
granite  cliffs  of  New  England's  "rock-bound 
coast." 

Caroline  Lee  IIentz. 


THE 


PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Mr.  Morelakd,  a  Southern  planter,  was  travelling 
through  the  New  England  States  in  the  bright  season 
of  a  Northern  spring.  Business  with  some  of  the  mer- 
chant princes  of  Boston  had  brought  him  to  the  North : 
but  a  desire  to  become  familiar  with  the  beautiful  sur- 
roundings of  the  metropolis  induced  him  to  linger  long 
after  it  was  transacted,  to  gratify  the  taste  and  curiosity 
of  an  intelligent  and  liberal  mind.  He  was  rich  and 
independent,  had  leisure  as  well  as  wealth  at  his  com- 
mand, and  there  was  something  in  the  deep  green  fields 
and  clear  blue  waters  of  New  England  that  gave  a 
freshness,  and  brightness,  and  elasticity  to  his  spirits, 
wanting  in  his  milder,  sunnier  latitude. 

He  found  himself  one  Saturday  night  in  a  sweet 
country  village,  whose  boundaries  were  marked  by.  the 
136  (13) 


14  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

most  luxuriant  shubbery  and  trees,  in  the  midst  of  which 
a  thousand  silver  rills  were  gushing.  He  was  pleased 
with  the  prospect  of  passing  the  ensuing  Sunday  in  a 
valley  so  serene  and  quiet,  that  it  seemed  as  if  Nature 
enjoyed  in  its  shades  the  repose  of  an  eternal  Sabbath. 
The  inn  where  he  stopped  was  a  neat,  orderly  place,  and 
though  the  landlord  impressed  him,  at  first,  as  a  hard, 
repulsive  looking  man,  with  a  dark,  Indian  face,  and 
large,  iron-bound  frame,  he  found  him  ready  to  perform 
all  the  duties  of  a  host.  Requesting  to  be  shown  to  a 
private  apartment,  he  ordered  Albert,  a  young  mulatto, 
who  accompanied  him  on  his  journey,  to  follow  him  with 
his  valise.  Albert  was  a  handsome,  golden-skinned 
youth,  with  shining  black  hair  and  eyes,  dressed  very 
nearly  as  genteelly  as  his  master,  and  who  generally 
attracted  more  attention  on  their  Northern  tour.  Accus- 
tomed to  wait  on  his  master  and  listen  to  the  conversa- 
tion of  refined  and  educated  gentlemen,  he  had  very 
little  of  the  dialect  of  the  negro,  and  those  familiar  with 
the  almost  unintelligible  jargon  which  delineators  of  the 
sable  character  put  into  their  lips,  could  not  but  be 
astonished  at  the  propriety  of  his  language  and  pronun- 
ciation. 

When  Mr.  Moreland  started  on  his  journey  to  the 
North,  his  friends  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him  from 
taking  a  servant  with  him,  as  he  would  incur  the  danger 
of  losing  him  among  the  granite  hills  to  which  he  was 
bound: — they  especially  warned  him  of  the  risk  of  taking 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  15 

Albert,  whose  superior  intelligence  and  cultivation  would 
render  hirn  more  accessible  to  the  arguments  which  would 
probably  be  brought  forward  to  lure  him  from  his  alle- 
giance. 

"I  defy  all  the  eloquence  of  the  North  to  induce 
Albert  to  leave  me,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Moreland.  "Let 
them  do  it  if  they  can.  Albert,"  he  said,  calling  the 
boy  to  him,  who  was  busily  employed  in  brushing  and 
polishing  his  master's  boots,  with  a  friction  quick  enough 
to  create  sparkles  of  light.  -'Albert, — I  am  going  to 
the  North, — would  you  like  to  go  with  me?" 

"To  be  sure  I  would,  master,  I  would  like  to  go  any- 
where in  the  world  with  you." 

"  You  know  the  people  are  all  free  at  the  North, 
Albert." 

"  Yes,  master. 

"  And  when  you  are  there,  they  will  very  likely  try 
to  persuade  you  that  you  are  free  too,  and  tell  you  it  is 
your  duty  to  run  away  from  me,  and  set  up  for  a  gentle- 
man yourself.     What  do  you  think  of  all  this  ?" 

Albert  suspended  his  brush  in  the  air,  drew  up  his 
left  shoulder  with  a  significant  shrug,  darted  an  oblique 
glance  at  his  master  from  his  bright  black  eyes,  and  then 
renewed  his  friction  with  accelerated  velocity. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  you  have  not  answered  me,"  cried 
Mr.  Moreland,  in  a  careless,  yet  interested  manner, 
peculiar  to  himself. 

"Why,  you  sec,  Mars.  Russell  (when  he  addressed  his 


J.6  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

master  by  his  Christian  name,  he  always  abbreviated  his 
title  in  this  manner,  though  when  the  name  was  omitted 
he  uttered  the  title  in  all  its  dignity), — "  you  see,  Mars. 
Russell," — here  the  mulatto  slipped  the  boot  from  his 
arm,  placed  it  on  the  floor,  and  still  retaining  the  brush 
in  his  right  hand,  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast,  and 
spoke  deliberately  and  earnestly, — "they  couldn't  come 
round  this  boy  with  that  story  ;  I've  hearn  it  often  enough 
already ;  I  ain't  afraid  of  anything  they  can  say  and  do, 
to  get  me  away  from  you  as  long  as  you  want  me  to 
stay  with  you.  But  if  you  are  afraid  to  trust  me,  mas- 
ter, that's  another  thing.  You'd  better  leave  me,  if  you 
think  I'd  be  mean  enough  to  run  away." 

"Well  said,  Albert !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Moreland,  laugh- 
ing at  the  air  of  injured  honour  and  conscious  self-appre- 
ciation he  assumed ;  "  I  do  trust  you,  and  shall  surely 
take  you  with  me ;  you  can  make  yourself  very  amusing 
to  the  people,  by  telling  them  of  your  home  frolics,  such 
as  being  chained,  handcuffed,  scourged,  flayed,  and  burned 
alive,  and  all  those  little  trifles  they  are  so  much  in- 
terested in." 

"  Oh !  master,  I  wish  I  may  find  everybody  as  well 
off  as  I  am.  If  there's  no  lies  told  on  you  but  what  I 
tell,  you'll  be  mighty  safe,  I  know.  Ever  since  Miss 
Claudia" — 

"Enough,"  cried  Mr.  Moreland,  hastily  interrupting 
him.  He  had  breathed  a  name  which  evidently  awakened 
painful  recollections,  for  his  sunshiny  countenance  be- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  17 

came  suddenly  dark  and  cold.  Albert,  "who  seemed 
familiar  with  his  master's  varying  moods,  respectfully 
resumed  his  occupation,  while  Mr.  Moreland  took  up  his 
hat  and  plunged  into  the  soft,  balmy  atmosphere  of  a 
Southern  spring  morning. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  go  back  and  relate  the  past 
history  of  Mr.  Moreland.  It  will  be  gathered  in  the 
midst  of  unfolding  events,  at  least  all  that  is  necessary 
for  the  interest  of  our  story.  We  will  therefore  return 
to  the  white-walled  inn  of  the  fair  New  England  village, 
where  our  traveller  was  seated,  enjoying  the  long,  dewy 
twilight  of  the  new  region  in  which  he  was  making  a 
temporary  rest.  The  sun  had  gone  down,  but  the  glow 
of  his  parting  smile  lingered  on  the  landscape  and  red- 
dened the  stream  that  gleamed  and  flashed  through  the 
distant  shrubbery.  Not  far  from  the  inn,  on  a  gradual 
eminence,  rose  the  village  church,  whose  tall  spire,  sur- 
mounted by  a  horizontal  vane,  reposed  on  the  golden 
clouds  of  sunset,  resembling  the  crucifix  of  some  gor- 
geous cathedral.  This  edifice  was  situated  far  back  from 
the  road,  surrounded  by  a  common  of  the  richest  green, 
in  the  centre  of  which  rose  the  swelling  mound,  conse- 
crated by  the  house  of  God.  Some  very  handsome 
buildings  were  seen  at  regular  intervals,  on  either  side 
of  the  road,  among  which  the  court-house  stood  conspi- 
cuous, with  its  freestone-coloured  wall  and  lofty  cupola. 
There  was  something  in  the  aspect  of  that  church,  with 
its  heaven-ascending  spire,  whose  glory-crown  of  linger- 


18  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

ing  day-beams  glittered  with  a  kind  of  celestial  splen- 
dour, reminding  him  of  the  halo  which  encircles  the 
brows  of  saints ;  something  in  the  deep  tranquillity  of 
the  hour,  the  soft,  hazy,  undulating  outline  of  the  dis- 
tant horizon,  the  swaying  motion  of  the  tall  poplars  that 
margined  the  street  far  as  his  eye  could  reach,  and 
through  whose  darkening  vista  a  solitary  figure  gradu- 
ally lessened  on  the  eye,  that  solemnized  and  even  sad- 
dened the  spirits  of  our  traveller.  The  remembrances 
of  early  youth  and  opening  manhood  pressed  upon  him 
with  suddenly  awakened  force.  Hopes,  on  which  so  sad 
and  awful  a  blight  had  fallen,  raised  themselves  like 
faded  flowers  sprinkled  with  dew,  and  mocked  him  with 
their  visionary  bloom.  In  the  excitement  of  travelling, 
the  realities  of  business,  the  frequent  collision  of  inte- 
rests, the  championship  of  oft  invaded  rights,  he  had  lost 
much  of  that  morbidness  of  feeling  and  restlessness  of 
character,  which,  being  more  accidental  than  inherent, 
would  naturally  yield  to  the  force  of  circumstances 
counter  to  those  in  which  they  were  born.  But  at  the 
close  of  any  arbitrary  division  of  time,  such  as  the  last 
day  of  the  week  or  the  year,  the  mind  is  disposed  to 
deeper  meditation,  and  the  mental  burden,  whose  weight 
has  been  equipoised  by  worldly  six-day  cares,  rolls  back 
upon  the  mind  with  leaden  oppression. 

Moreland  had  too  great  a  respect  for  the  institutions 
of  religion,  too  deep  an  inner  sense  of  its  power,  to 
think  of  continuing  his  journey  on  the  Sabbath,  and  he 


THE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  it 

was  glad  that  the  chamber  which  he  occupied  looked  oul 
upon  that  serene  landscape,  and  that  the  morning  shadow 
of  the  lofty  church-spire  would  be  thrown  across  his  win- 
dow. It  seemed  to  him  he  had  seen  this  valley  before, 
with  its  beautiful  green,  grassy  slopes,  its  sunset-gilded 
church,  and  dark  poplar  avenue.  And  it  seemed  to  him 
also,  that  he  had  seen  a  fair  maiden  form  gliding  through, 
the  central  aisle  of  that  temple,  in  robes  of  virgin  white, 
and  soft,  down-bending  eyes  of  dark  brown  lustre,  and 
brow  of  moonlight  calmness.  It  was  one  of  those  dim 
reminiscences,  those  vague,  dream-like  consciousnesses 
of  a  previous  existence,  which  every  being  of  poetic  tem- 
perament is  sometimes  aware  of,  and  though  they  come, 
faint  shadows  of  a  far-off  world,  quick  and  vanishing  as 
lightning,  they  nevertheless  leave  certain  traces  of  their 
presence,  "trails  of  glory,"  as  a  great  poet  has  called 
them,  proceeding  from  the  spirit's  home. 

While  he  sat  leaning  in  silence  against  the  window 
frame,  the  bell  of  the  church  began  to  toll  slowly  and 
solemnly,  and  as  the  sounds  rolled  heavily  and  gloomily 
along,  then  reverberated  and  vibrated  with  melancholy 
prolongation,  sending  out  a  sad,  dying  echo,  followed  by 
another  majestic,  startling  peal,  he  wondered  to  hear 
such  a  funeral  knell  at  that  twilight  hour,  and  looked  up 
the  shadowy  line  of  poplars  for  the  dark  procession 
leading  to  the  grave.  Nothing  was  seen,  however,  and 
nothing  heard  but  those  monotonous,  heavy,  mournful 
peals,  which  seemed  to  sweep  by  him  with  the  flaps  of 


20  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

the  raven's  wings.  Twenty  times  the  bell  tolled,  and 
then  all  was  still. 

"What  means  the  tolling  of  the  bell?"  asked  he  of 
the  landlord,  who  was  walking  beneath  the  window. 
"Is  there  a  funeral  at  this  late  hour  ?" 

"  A  young  woman  has  just  died,"  replied  the  land- 
lord. "  They  are  tolling  her  age.  It  is  a  custom  of 
our  village." 

Moreland  drew  back  with  a  shudder.  Just  twenty. 
That  was  her  age.  She  had  not  died,  and  yet  the  death- 
bell  might  well  ring  a  deeper  knell  over  her  than  the 
being  who  had  just  departed.  In  the  grave  the  remem- 
brance of  the  bitterest  wrongs  are  buried,  and  the  most 
vindictive  cease  to  thirst  for  vengeance.  Moreland  was 
glad  when  a  summons  to  supper  turned  his  thoughts  into 
a  different  channel. 

There  might  have  been  a  dozen  men  seated  around 
the  table,  some  whose  dress  and  manners  proclaimed 
that  they  were  gentlemen,  others  evidently  of  a  coarser 
grain.  They  all  looked  up  at  the  entrance  of  Moreland, 
who,  with  a  bow,  such  as  the  courteous  stranger  is 
always  ready  to  make,  took  his  seat,  while  Albert  placed 
himself  behind  his  master's  chair. 

"Take  a  seat,"  said  Mr.  Griniby,  the  landlord, 
looking  at  Albert.  "There's  one  by  the  gentleman. 
Plenty  of  room  for  us  all."* 

"My  boy  will  wait,"   cried  Mr.  Moreland,  with  un- 

*  A  fact. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  21 

conscious  haughtiness,  while  his  pale  cheek  visibly  red- 
dened. "  I  would  thank  you  to  leave  the  arrangement 
of  such  things  to  myself." 

"No  offence,  I  hope,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Grimby. 
'  We  look  upon  everybody  here  as  free  and  equal.  This 
is  a  free  country,  and  when  folks  come  among  us  we 
don't  see  why  they  can't  conform  to  our  ways  of  think- 
ing. There's  a  proverb  that  says — 'when  you're  with 
the  Romans,  it's  best  to  do  as  the  Romans  do.'  " 

"Am  I  to  understand,"  said  Mr.  Moreland,  fixing  his 
eye  deliberately  on  his  Indian-visaged  host,  "  that  you 
wish  my  servant  to  sit  down  with  yourself  and  these 
gentlemen?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,"  replied  the  landlord,  winking  his 
small  black  eye  knowingly  at  his  left-hand  neighbour. 
"  I  don't  see  why  he  isn't  as  good  as  the  rest  of  us. 
I'm  an  enemy  to  all  distinctions  myself,  and  I'd  like  to 
bring  everybody  round  to  my  opinion." 

"Albert!"  cried  his  master,  "obey  the  landlord's 
wishes.  J"  want  no  supper ;  take  my  seat  and  see  that  you 
are  well  attended  to." 

"Mars.  Russell,"  said  the  mulatto,  in  a  confused  and 
deprecating  tone. 

"Do  as  I  tell  you,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Moreland,  in  a 
tone  of  authority,  which,  though  tempered  by  kindness, 
Albert  understood  too  well  to  resist.  As  Moreland 
passed  from  the  room,  a  gentleman,  with  a  very  prepos- 


22  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

sessing  countenance  and  address,  who  was  seated  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table,  rose  and  followed  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  had  so  poor  a  specimen  of 
Northern  politeness,"  said  the  gentleman,  accosting 
Moreland,  with  a  slight  embarrassment  of  manner.  "  I 
trust  you  do  not  think  we  all  endorse  such  sentiments." 

"I  certainly  must  make  you  an  exception,  sir," 
replied  Moreland,  holding  out  his  hand  with  involuntary 
frankness ;  "  but  I  fear  there  are  but  very  few.  This 
is,  however,  the  first  direct  attack  I  have  received,  and 
I  hardly  knew  in  what  way  to  meet  it.  I  have  too  much 
self-respect  to  place  myself  on  a  level  with  a  man  so 
infinitely  rny  inferior.  That  he  intended  to  insult  me,  I 
know  by  his  manner.  He  knows  our  customs  at  home, 
and  that  nothing  could  be  done  in  more  positive  viola- 
tion of  them  than  his  unwarrantable  proposition." 

They  had  walked  out  in  the  open  air  while  they  were 
speaking,  and  continued  their  walk  through  the  poplar 
avenue,  through  whose  stiff  and  stately  branches  the 
first  stars  of  evening  were  beginning  to  glisten. 

"I  should  think  you  would  fear  the  effect  of  these 
things  on  your  servant,"  said  the  gentleman, — "that 
it  would  make  him  insolent  and  rebellious.  Pardon  me, 
sir,  but  I  think  you  were  rather  imprudent  in  bringing 
him  with  you,  and  exposing  him  to  the  influences  which 
must  meet  him  on  every  side.  You  will  not  be  surprised, 
after  the  instance  which  has  just  occurred,  when  I  tell 
you,  that,  in  this  village,  you  are  in  the  very  hot-bed  of 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE.  23 

fanaticism  ;  and  that  a  Southern  planter,  accompanied 
by  his  slave,  can  meet  but  little  sympathy,  consideration, 
or  toleration  ;  I  fear  there  will  be  strong  efforts  made  to 
induce  your  boy  to  leave  you." 

"I  fear  nothing  of  that  kind,"  answered  Moreland. 
"  If  they  can  bribe  him  from  me,  let  him  go.  I  brought 
him  far  less  to  minister  to  my  wants  than  to  test  his 
fidelity  and  affection.  I  believe  them  proof  against  any 
temptation  or  assault ;  if  I  am  deceived  I  wish  to  know 
it,  though  the  pang  would  be  as  severe  as  if  my  own 
brother  should  lift  his  hand  against  me." 

"Indeed! — I  did  not  imagine  that  the  feelings  were 
ever  so  deeply  interested.  While  I  respect  your  rights, 
and  resent  any  ungentlemanlike  infringement  of  them, 
as  in  the  case  of  our  landlord,  I  cannot  conceive  how 
beings,  who  are  ranked  as  goods  and  chattels,  things  of 
bargain  and  traffic,  can  ever  fill  the  place  of  a  friend  or 
brother  in  the  heart." 

"Nevertheless,  I  assure  you,  that  next  to  our  own 
kindred,  we  look  upon  our  slaves  as  our  best  friends." 

As  they  came  out  of  the  avenue  into  the  open  street, 
they  perceived  the  figure  of  a  .woman,  walking  with  slow 
steps  before  them,  bearing  a  large  bundle  under  her  arm  ; 
she  paused  several  times,  as  if  to  recover  breath,  and 
once  she  stopped  and  leaned  against  the  fence,  while  a 
dry,  hollow  cough  rent  her  frame. 

"Nancy,"  said  the  gentleman,  "is  that  you? — you 
should  not  be  out  in  the  night  air." 


24  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

The  woman  turned  round,  and  the  starlight  fell  on  a 
pale  and  wasted  face. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  she  answered, — "I  can't  hold  out 
any  longer, — I  can't  work  any  more ; — I  ain't  strong 
'  enough  to  do  a  single  chore  now;  and  Mr.  Grimby  says 
he  hain't  got  any  room  for  me  to  lay  by  in.  My  wages 
stopped  three  weeks  ago.  He  says  there's  no  use  in  my 
hanging  on  any  longer,  for  I'll  never  be  good  for  any- 
thing any  more." 

"Where  are  you  going  now?"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Home  !"  was  the  reply,  in  a  tone  of  deep  and  hope- 
less despondency, — "  Home,  to  my  poor  old  mother.  I've 
supported  her  by  my  wages  ever  since  I've  been  hired 
out ;  that's  the  reason  I  haven't  laid  up  any.  God 
knows " 

Here  she  stopped,  for  her  words  were  evidently  choked 
by  an  awful  realization  of  the  irremediable  misery  of  her 
condition.  Moreland  listened  with  eager  interest.  His 
compassion  was  awakened,  and  so  were  other  feelings. 
Here  was  a  problem  he  earnestly  desired  to  solve,  and 
he  determined  to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity  thrown 
in  his  path. 

"  How  far  is  your  home  from  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"About  three-quarters  of  a  mile." 

"  Give  me  your  bundle — I'll  carry  it  for  you,  you  are 
too  feeble  ;  nay,  I  insist  upon  it." 

Taking  the  bundle  from  the  reluctant  hand  of  the 
poor  woman,  he  swung  it  lightly  upward  and  poised  it 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  25 

on  his  left  shoulder.  His  companion  turned  with  a  look 
of  unfeigned  surprise  towards  the  elegant  and  evidently 
high-bred  stranger,  thus  courteously  relieving  poverty 
and  weakness  of  an  oppressive  burden. 

"  Suffer  me  to  assist  you,"  said  he.  "You  must  be 
very  unaccustomed  to  services  of  this  kind ;  I  ought  to 
have  anticipated  you." 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  do  such  things  for  myself," 
answered  Moreland,  "because  there  is  no  occasion  ;  but 
it  only  makes  me  more  willing  to  do  them  for  others. 
You  look  upon  us  as  very  self-indulging  beings,  do  you 
not?" 

"  We  think  your  institutions  calculated  to  promote  the 
growth  of  self-indulgence  and  selfishness.  The  virtues 
that  resist  their  opposing  influences  must  have  more 
than  common  vitality." 

"We,  who  know  the  full  length  and  breadth  of  our 
responsibilities,  have  less  time  than  any  other  men  for 
self-indulgence.  We  feel  that  life  is  too  short  for  the 
performance  of  our  duties,  made  doubly  arduous  and 
irksome  by  the  misapprehension  and  prejudice  of  those 
who  ought  to  know  us  better  and  judge  us  more  justly 
and  kindly.     My  good  woman,  do  we  walk  too  fast?" 

"Oh,  no,  sir.  I  so  long  to  get  home,  but  I  am  so 
ashamed  to  have  you  carry  that  bundle." 

He  had  forgotten  the  encumbrance  in  studying  the 
domestic  problem,  presented  to  him  for  solution.  Here 
was  a  ooor  young  woman,   entirely  dependent  on  her 


26  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

daily  labour  for  the  support  of  herself  and  aged  mother, 
incapacitated  by  sickness  from  ministering  to  their  ne- 
cessities, thrown  back  upon  her  home,  without  the  means 
of  subsistence :  in  prospective,  a  death  of  lingering  tor- 
ure  for  herself,  for  her  mother  a  life  of  destitution  or  a 
helter  in  the  almshouse.  For  every  comfort,  for  the 
bare  necessaries  of  life,  they  must  depend  upon  the  com- 
passion of  the  public  ;  the  attendance  of  a  physician 
must  be  the  work  of  charity,  their  existence  a  burden  on 
others. 

She  had  probably  been  a  faithful  labourer  in  her  em- 
ployer's family,  while  health  and  strength  lasted.  He 
was  an  honest  man  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
word,  and  had  doled  out  her  weekly  wages  as  long  as 
they  were  earned ;  but  he  was  not  rich,  he  had  no  super- 
fluous gold,  and  could  not  afford  to  pay  to  her  what  was 
due  to  her  stronger  and  more  healthy  successor ;  he 
could  not  afford  to  give  her  even  the  room  which  was 
required  by  another.  What  could  she  do  but  go  to  her 
desolate  home  and  die  ?  She  could  not  murmur.  She 
had  no  claim  on  the  affection  of  the  man  in  whose  ser  • 
vice  she  had  been  employed.  She  had  lived  with  him 
in  the  capacity  of  a  hireling,  and  he,  satisfied  that  he 
paid  her  the  utmost  farthing  which  justice  required,  dis- 
missed her,  without  incurring  the  censure  of  unkindness 
or  injustice.  We  ought  to  add,  without  deserving  it. 
There  were  others  far  more  able  than  himself  to  take 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  27 

care  of  her,  and  a  home  provided  by  the  parish  for 
every  unsheltered  head. 

Moreland,  whose  moral  perceptions  were  rendered 
very  acute  by  observation,  drew  a  contrast  in  his  own 
r  ind,  between  the  Northern  and  Southern  labourer,  when 
educed  to  a  state  of  sickness  and  dependence.  He 
brought  his  own  experience  m  comparison  with  the  lesson 
of  the  present  hour,  and  thought  that  the  sick  and  dying 
negro,  retained  under  his  master's  roof,  kindly  nursed 
and  ministered  unto,  with  no  sad,  anxious  lookings  for- 
ward into  the  morrow  for  the  supply  of  nature's  wants, 
no  fears  of  being  cast  into  the  pauper's  home,  or  of  be- 
ing made  a  member  of  that  unhappy  family,  consecrated 
by  no  head,  hallowed  by  no  domestic  relationship,  had 
in  contrast  a  far  happier  lot.  In  the  latter  case  there 
was  sickness,  without  its  most  horrible  concomitant,  po- 
verty, without  the  harrowing  circumstances  connected 
with  public  charity,  or  the  capricious  influence  of  private 
compassion.  It  is  true,  the  nominal  bondage  of  the 
slave  was  wanting,  but  there  was  the  bondage  of  poverty, 
whose  iron  chains  are  heard  clanking  in  every  region 
of  God's  earth,  whose  dark  links  are  wrought  in  the 
forge  of  human  suffering,  eating  slowly  into  the  quivering 
flesh,  till  they  reach  and  dry  up  the  life-blood  of  the 
heart.  It  has  often  been  said  that  there  need  be  no  such 
thing  as  poverty  in  this  free  and  happy  land ;  that  here 
it  is  only  the  offspring  of  vice  and  intemperance;  that 
the  avenues  of  wealth  and  distinction  are  open  to  all. 


28  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

and  that  all  who  choose  may  arrive  at  the  golden  portals 
of  success  and  honour,  and  enter  boldly  in.  Whether 
this  be  true  or  not,  let  the  thousand  toiling  operatives 
of  the  Northern  manufactories  tell ;  let  the  poor,  starving 
seamstresses,  whose  pallid  faces  mingle  their  chill,  wintry 
gleams  with  the  summer  glow  and  splendour  of  the  North- 
ern cities,  tell ;  let  the  free  negroes,  congregated  in  the 
suburbs  of  some  of  our  modern  Babylons,  lured  from 
their  homes  by  hopes  based  on  sand,  without  forethought, 
experience,  or  employment,  without  sympathy,  influence, 
or  caste,  let  them  also  tell. 

When  Moreland  reached  the  low,  dark-walled  cottage 
which  Nancy  pointed  out  as  her  home,  he  gave  her  back 
her  bundle,  and  at  the  same  time  slipped  a  bill  into  her 
hand,  of  whose  amount  she  could  not  be  aware.  But 
she  knew  by  the  soft,  yielding  paper  the  nature  of  the 
gift,  and  something  whispered  her  that  it  was  no  niggard 
boon. 

"Oh,  sir,"  she  cried,  "you  are  too  good.  God  bless 
you,  sir,  over  and  over  again  !" 

She  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  little  cabin,  and  the 
dull  light  within  played  luridly  on  her  sharpened  and 
emaciated  features.  Her  large  black  eyes  were  burning 
with  consumption's  wasting  fires,  and  a  deep  red,  central 
spot  in  each  concave  cheek,  like  the  flame  of  the  magic 
cauldron,  was  fed  with  blood  alone.  Large  tears  were 
now  sparkling  in  those  glowing  flame-spots,  but  they  did 
not  extinguish  their  wasting  brightness. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  29 

"Poor  creature!"  thought  Moreland.  "Her  day  of 
toil  is  indeed  over.  There  is  nothing  left  for  her  but 
to  endure  and  to  die.  She  has  learned  to  labour,  she 
must  now  learn  to  wait." 

As  he  turned  from  the  door,  resolving  to  call  again 
before  he  left  the  village,  he  saw  his  companion  step 
back  and  speak  to  her,  extending  his  hand  at  the  same 
time.  Perceiving  that  he  was  actuated  by  the  Christian 
spirit,  which  does  not  wish  the  left  hand  to  know  what 
the  right  hand  doeth,  he  walked  slowly  on,  through  an 
atmosphere  perfumed  by  the  delicious  but  oppressive 
fragrance  of  the  blossoming  lilacs,  that  lent  to  this  ob- 
scure habitation  a  certain  poetic  charm. 

During  their  walk  back  to  the  inn,  he  became  more 
and  more  pleased  with  his  new  acquaintance,  whose 
name  he  ascertained  was  Brooks,  by  profession  an  ar- 
chitect of  bridges.  He  was  not  a  resident  of  the  village, 
but  was  now  engaged  in  erecting  a  central  bridge  over 
the  river  that  divided  the  village  from  the  main  body  of 
the  town.  As  his  interests  were  not  identified  with  the 
place  or  the  people,  his  opinions  were  received  by  More- 
land  with  more  faith  and  confidence  than  if  they  issued 
from  the  lips  of  a  native  inhabitant. 

When  they  returned  to  the  inn,  they  found  Albert 
waiting  at  the  door,  with  a  countenance  of  mingled  vex- 
ation and  triumph.  The  landlord  and  several  other 
men  were  standing  near  him,  and  had  evidently  been 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  The  sudden  cessation 
137 


SO  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

of  this,  on  the  approach  of  Mr.  Moreland,  proved  that 
he  had  been  the  subject  of  it,  and  from  the  manner  in 
which  they  drew  back  as  he  entered  the  passage,  he 
imagined  their  remarks  were  not  of  the  most  flattering 
nature. 

"Well,  Albert,  my  boy,"  said  he,  when  they  were 
alone  in  his  chamber,  "I  hope  you  relished  your  supper." 

"Please,  Mars.  Russell,  don't  do  that  again.  I  made 
'em  wait  on  me  this  time,  but  it  don't  seem  right.  Be- 
sides, I  don't  feel  on  an  equality  with  'em,  no  way.  They 
are  no  gentlemen." 

Moreland  laughed. 

"  What  were  they  talking  to  you  about  so  earnestly 
as  I  entered  ?"  asked  he. 

"  About  how  you  treated  me  and  the  rest  of  us.  Why, 
Mars.  Russell,  they  don't  know  nothing  about  us.  They 
want  to  know  if  we  don't  wear  chains  at  home  and  mana- 
cles about  our  wrists.  One  asked  if  you  didn't  give  us 
fodder  to  eat.  Another  wanted  to  strip  off  my  coat,  to 
see  if  my  back  wa'n't  all  covered  with  scars.  I  wish 
you'd  heard  what  I  told  'em.  Master,  I  wish  you'd 
heard  the  way  I  give  it  to  'em." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  did  me  justice,  Albert.  My 
feelings  are  not  in  the  least  wounded,  though  my  sense 
of  justice  is  pained.  Why,  I  should  think  the  sight  of 
■  ui  round,  sleek  cheeks,  and  sound,  active  limbs  would 
be  the  best  argument  in  my  favour.  They  must  believe 
you  thrive  wonderful ly  on  fodder." 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  31 

"What  you  think  one  of  'em  said,  Mars.  Russell? 
They  say  you  fatten  me  up,  you  dress  me  up,  and  carry 
me  'bout  as  a  show-boy,  to  make  folks  think  you  treat 
us  all  well,  but  that  the  niggers  at  home  are  treated 
worse  than  dogs  or  cattle,  a  heap  worse.  I  tell  'em  it's 
all  one  big  lie.     I  tell  'em  you're  the  best — " 

"Never  mind,  Albert.  That  will  do.  I  want  to 
think — " 

Albert  never  ventured  to  intrude  on  his  master's  think- 
ing moments,  and,  turning  away  in  respectful  silence,  he 
soon  stretched  himself  on  the  carpet  and  sunk  in  a  pro- 
found sleep.  In  the  mean  time  Moreland  waded  through 
a  deep  current  of  thought,  that  swelled  as  it  rolled,  and 
ofttimes  it  was  turbid  and  foaming,  and  sometimes  it 
seemed  of  icy  dullness.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  intel- 
lect and  strong  passions  ;  but  the  latter,  being  under  the 
control  of  principle,  gave  force  and  energy  and  warmth 
to  a  character  which,  if  unrestrained,  they  would  have 
defaced  and  laid  waste.  He  wras  a  searcher  after  truth, 
and  felt  ready  and  brave  enough  to  plunge  into  the  cold 
abyss,  where  it  is  said  to  be  hidden,  or  to  encounter  the 
fires  of  persecution,  the  thorns  of  prejudice,  to  hazard 
everything,  to  suffer  everything,  rather  than  relinquish 
the  hope  of  attaining  it.  He  pondered  much  on  the 
condition  of  mankind,  its  inequalities  and  wrongs.  He 
thought  of  the  poor  and  subservient  in  other  lands,  and 
compared  them  with  our  own.  He  thought  of  the  groan- 
ins;  serfs  of  Russia  ;  the  starving  sons  of  Ireland ;   the 


32  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

squalid  operatives  of  England,  its  dark,  subterranean 
workshops,  sunless  abodes  of  want,  misery,  and  sin,  its 
toiling  millions,  doomed  to  drain  their  hearts'  best  blood 
to  add  to  the  splendours  and  luxuries  of  royalty  and 
rank ;  of  the  free  hirelings  of  the  North,  who,  as  a  class, 
travail  in  discontent  and  repining,  anxious  to  throw  off 
the  yoke  of  servitude,  sighing  for  an  equality  which  ex- 
ists only  in  name ;  and  then  he  turned  his  thoughts 
homeward,  to  the  enslaved  children  of  Africa,  and,  tak- 
ing them  as  a  class,  as  a  distinct  race  of  beings,  he  came 
to  the  irresistible  conclusion,  that  they  were  the  happi- 
est subservient  race  that  were  found  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  He  did  not  seek  to  disguise  to  himself  the  evils 
which  were  inseparably  connected  with  their  condition, 
or  that  man  too  oft  abused  the  power  he  owned ;  but  in 
view  of  all  this,  in  view  of  the  great,  commanding  truth, 
that  wherever  civilized  man  exists,  there  is  the  dividing 
line  of  the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the 
thinking  and  the  labouring,  in  view  of  the  God-pro- 
claimed fact  that  "all  Creation  toileth  and  groaneth  to 
gether,"  and  that  labour  and  suffering  are  the  solemn 
sacraments  of  life,  he  believed  that  the  slaves  of  the 
South  were  blest  beyond  the  pallid  slaves  of  Europe,  or 
the  anxious,  care-worn  labourers  of  the  North. 

With  this  conviction  he  fell  asleep,  and  in  his  dreams 
he  still  tried  to  unravel  the  mystery  of  life,  and  to  re- 
concile its  inequalities  with  the  justice  and  mercy  of  an 
omnipotent  God. 


CHAPTER   II. 

Moreland  breakfasted  in  his  own  room,  and  the 
peace  of  the  Sabbath  morning  brooded  on  his  heart. 
He  took  his  seat  at  the  window,  and  watched  the 
shadows  of  the  trees  playing  on  the  white  walls  of  the 
church,  and  the  golden  gleam  of  its  vane  flashing  on 
the  blue  of  the  sky.  He  was  glad  when  the  deep-toned 
bell  called  the  worshippers  together,  and  the  people 
began  to  ascend  the  grassy  slope  that  led  up  to  the 
house  of  God.  Mr.  Brooks,  his  new  friend,  offered  to 
accompany  him  and  usher  him  to  a  seat;  an  offer  he 
gratefully  accepted.  The  pew  to  which  he  conducted 
him  was  situated  at  the  right  hand  of  the  pulpit,  in  one 
of  the  wings  of  the  church,  so  that  he  was  facing  the 
congregation,  and  could  see  them  without  appearing  to 
gaze,  as  they  glided,  one  by  one,  up  the  central  aisle,  to 
their  accustomed  places. 

The  interior  of  the  church  was  very  simple  and  pure. 
The  green  curtains  and  hangings  of  the  pulpit,  and  the 
green  screen  that  ran  around  the  gallery,  made  a 
charming  contrast  with  the  unsullied  whiteness  of  the 

(33) 


34  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

wails,  and  harmonized  with  the  green  boughs  that 
shaded  the  windows,  and  the  green  grass  that  carpeted 
the  common. 

There  was  no  organ,  with  gilded  pipes  and  sounding 
bellows,  to  give  dignity  to  the  orchestra,  but  Moreland 
caught  a  glimpse  of  white  robes  behind  the  curtain  of 
the  gallery,  and  he  was  sure  some  beautiful  daughters 
of  Zion  were  assembled  there  to  sing  praises  to  their 
God.  He  wanted  the  service  to  commence,  so  that  ho 
could  see  the  figures  of  that  vestal  choir,  as  well  as  hear 
their  ming-lins;  voices.  His  ear  was  gratified  before  his 
eye,  for  while  waiting  the  coming  of  the  minister,  an 
anthem  began  to  roll  forth  from  the  invisible  band,  whose 
notes  filled  the  intervals  of  sound  between  the  echoing 
peals  of  the  bell.  The  commencing  words  of  the  anthem 
were  grand.  Moreland  had  heard  them  before,  but  they 
came  to  him  with  a  new  sense,  because  he  was  prepared 
to  receive  new  impressions. 

"Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 
Ye  nations  bow  with  sacred  joy; 
Know  that  the  Lord  is  God  alone, 
He  can  create,  and  He  destroy." 

Among  the  voices  that  gave  utterance  to  these  adoring 
words,  was  one  which,  though  sweet  and  soft  and  femi- 
nine beyond  expression,  seemed  to  drown  every  other. 
It  rose,  like  the  imagined  hymn  of  an  angel,  clear  and 
swelling,  and  then  died  gently  away,  to  rise  again  with 
richer,   fuller    harmony.     Moreland,    whose    devotional 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE.  8,5 

feelings  were  always  exalted  by  sacred  music,  listened 
with  breathless  rapture,  wondering  what  sweet  bird  of 
song  had  folded  its  wings  behind  that  green  enclosure. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  anthem,  where  it  is  affirmed 
that  the  truth  of  God  shall  stand  firm  as  a  rock, 

"While  rolling  years  shall  cease  to  move," 

when  again  and  again  the  sublime  refrain  was  repeated, 
that  single  voice  alone  fell  upon  his  ear.  On  that  alone 
the  "rolling  years"  seemed  borne  onward  to  eternity. 
Other  voices  sang,  and  their  notes  died  away ;  but  hers 
kept  rolling  and  warbling  round  the  arching  walls  of  the 
church,  till  the  house  was  filled  with* their  melody,  and 
Moreland  kept  looking  up,  almost  expecting  to  see  them 
forming  into  something  visible,  as  well  as  audible,  into 
silvery  or  crystal  rings,  sparkling  and  glittering  on  the 
eye.  He  held  his  breath  so  long,  that  the  act  of  respi- 
ration became  painful,  when  renewed,  and  so  intensely 
had  he  listened  that  the  moisture  gathered  on  his  brow. 
The  anthem  ceased  as  the  venerable  minister  walked 
up  the  aisle  and  ascended  the  pulpit.  He  looked  con- 
genial with  the  music  that  heralded  his  approach,  with 
his  silver  hair,  mild,  benignant  countenance,  and  deep 
set  thoughtful  eyes.  He  was  just  such  a  minister  as  on 
would  associate  in  idea  with  that  pure,  simple  church, 
and  white-robed  singing  band.  His  prayer  breathed  the 
very  spirit  of  devotion.  It  reminded  Moreland  of  the 
"Lord,  save  or  we  perish"  of  drowning  Peter — "God 


36  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner"  of  the  weeping  publican. 
After  the  reading  of  a  beautiful  opening  hymn,  the 
choir  rose,  and  the  eyes  of  Moreland  rested  on  one  fair 
face,  which  he  knew,  by  intuition,  belonged  to  the  min- 
strel maiden  whose  voice  had  so -charmed  his  ear.  It 
rose  above  the  green  curtain  like  a  lily  from  its  bed  of 
sheathing  leaves,  so  fair,  so  spiritual,  so  serene,  it  was 
impossible  not  to  imagine  an  atmosphere  of  fragrance 
surrounding  its  purity  and  bloom.  He  was  right.  The 
hymn  commenced,  and  the  same  sweet  strains  gushed 
from  the  lips,  on  which  he  was  now  gazing.  He  could 
not  see  the  colour  of  her  eyes,  for  they  were  downcast, 
but  he  could  see  the  soft  shadow  of  long,  dark,  drooping 
lashes  on  her  cheeks,  and  he  could  see  the  bright,  deep 
hue  of  chestnut  brown  that  dyed  her  hair.  He  remem- 
bered the  vision  that  had  flitted  before  him  the  preceding 
evening,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  met  this 
maiden  stranger  in  some  of  the  dim-remembered  scenes 
of  a  past  eternity.  He  could  not  shake  off  this  wild 
idea,  born  of  a  poetic  temperament  and  excited  imagi- 
nation. What  was  there  about  this  young  female  that 
so  singularly  attracted  him ; — him,  who  had  lately 
abjured  the  very  thought  of  woman,  in  a  widowhood  of 
heart,  far  deeper  and  sadder  than  that  which  death 
creates ;  who  had  torn  from  his  bosom  the  wilted  gar- 
lands of  love,  and  cast  them,  in  indignation  and  despair, 
at  the  feet  of  a  fallen  and  degraded  idol  ?  She  was  not 
more  beautiful  than  some  of  her  companions,  perhaps 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  37 

not  as  beautiful  as  some,  and  yet  he  gazed  only  on  her, 
watching  the  lifting  of  her  drooping  lids,  as  the  Persian 
watches  the  rising  of  the  star  of  day.  It  was  not  till 
the  close  of  the  hymn,  the  beginning  of  the  sermon, 
after  the  curtain  was  drawn  on  one  side  and  the  singers 
seated,  that  she  raised  her  eyes  and  fixed  them  steadily 
on  the  evangelical  countenance  of  the  pastor.  Though 
bent  on  another,  Moreland  felt  their  dark  magnetism  to 
his  heart's  core.  This  sudden,  powerful  attraction, 
exercised  by  the  simple  village  maiden,  would  not  have 
been  so  strange  had  he  been  a  young,  romantic  boy ;  but 
he  was  a  man  of  some  sad  experience,  who,  before  he 
entered  that  church,  believed  himself  cold  and  insen- 
sible to  the  most  seductive  charms  of  womankind.  At 
length,  roused  to  the  reflection  that  he  might  attract 
observation  by  the  intensity  of  his  gaze,  he  turned  also 
towards  the  minister  and  endeavoured  to  rivet  his  atten- 
tion on  the  truths  he  uttered.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  a  distinguished-looking  stranger  would  pass  entirely 
unnoticed  in  a  village  church,  and  there  was  many  an 
eye  perusing  his  face,  while  his  was  bent  on  the  gallery  ; 
and  there  were  some  who  thought  his  fixed  and  earnest 
gaze  the  bold,  free  stare  of  conscious  wealth  and  arro- 
gance. They  had  heard  that  a  Southern  gentleman, 
accompanied  by  a  mulatto  slave,  had  stopped  at  the  inn 
the  preceding  night,  and  they  were  not  slow  in  identi- 
fying the  individual  with  the  handsome  stranger  before 
them.     There  were  a  few,  however,  who  did  not  judge 


S3  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRTDE. 

Lira  in  this  harsh  manner,  who  had  heard — (strange  how 
quickly  such  things  are  winged  in  a  country  village) — 
how  he  had  carried  Nancy  Brown's  bundle  all  the  way 
home  for  her,  and  put  in  her  hand  a  ten  dollar  bill, 
without  saying  a  word  about  it,  and  they  lifted  up  their 
heart?  and  blessed  him,  though  he  knew  it  not. 

When  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  and  the  con- 
gregation passed  out,  Moreland  lingered  in  the  vestibule 
waiting  for  the  choristers  to  descend.  She  came  at 
last,  leading  by  the  hand  a  little  girl  of  about  five  years 
of  age,  whose  countenance  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to 
her  own.  So  many  people  were  crowded  in  the  door- 
ways, she  was  obliged  to  pass  so  close  to  Moreland  that 
her  white  dress  floated  against  him ;  and  if  it  had  been 
the  wing  of  a  seraph  he  could  not  have  felt  a  thrill  of 
deeper  reverence.  She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  he  felt, 
by  the  colour  that  glowed  on  the  lilies  of  her  cheek,  that 
she  was  aware  of  his  presence  and  his  gaze. 

"Eula!"  said  the  little  girl,  "don't  walk  so  fast; 
Papa  is  coming." 

Eula ! — blessings  on  that  cherub  mouth  for  pronounc- 
ing the  name  he  so  longed  to  know.  But  that  large, 
bustling  gentleman,  with  reddish-auburn  hair  and  florid 
complexion,  and  small,  keen,  restless  black  eyes,  was 
that  Eula's  father  ?  To  be  sure,  it  must  be,  for  does 
she  not  take  his  arm  with  an  affectionate,  confiding  air ; 
and  does  not  the  little  smiling  five-year  old  thing  frisk 
round  to  the   other  side  of  him,  catching  hold  of  his 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE  39 

hand  as  if  it  were  an  ingot  of  gold  she  was  grasping, 
instead  of  four  freckled  fingers  and  one  stout  thumb ! 

"Who  is  that  reddish-haired  gentleman?"  ashed 
Moreland  of  Mr.  Brooks,  as  they  walked  slowly  in  the 
wake  of  light  the  sweet-voiced  maiden  seemed  to  leave 
behind  her. 

"  His  name  is  Hastings,"  replied  his  companion,  "  one 
of  the  most  conspicuous  characters  in  the  village.  He 
is  considered  a  very  shrewd,  intelligent  man,  and,  al- 
though not  at  all  popular,  has  nevertheless  a  great  deal 
of  influence  in  the  community." 

"What  is  his  profession?" 

"  He  cannot  be  said  to  have  any  exclusive  profession. 
He  prepares  young  men  for  college,  edits  a  paper  called 
the  "Emancipator, "writes essays, delivers  public  lectures 
on  all  the  leading  topics  of  the  day,  and,  among  these, 
as  you  are  doubtless  prepared  to  hear,  slavery,  or  rather 
anti-slavery,  occupies  a  very  conspicuous  place." 

"Indeed!"  cried  Moreland,  with  an  unaccountable 
feeling  of  pain  at  the  intelligence ;  "  and  is  that  young 
lady  on  his  right  arm  his  own  daughter  ?" 

"  Yes  !  that  is  Miss  Eulalia  Hastings,  or,  as  she  is 
often  called,  the  Flower  of  the  villa s;e.  She  sings  like 
an  angel.  You  heard  her  voice  in  church.  She  is 
highly  educated  and  accomplished,  though  she  is  so 
modest  and  retiring  she  makes  no  display.  She  is 
universally  beloved  and  admired,  and  makes  friends 
even  of  her  father's  enemies." 


40  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"Of  course,  she  inherits  all  her  father's  prejudices 
against  the  South?"  remarked  Moreland,  in  a  tone  that 
seemed  to  ask  a  negation. 

"  Very  probably ;  though  they  must  be  softened  by 

i  passing  through  such  a  medium.     I  heard  him  say  once, 

that  if  wife  or  child  of  his  were  languishing  in  a  con- 
es o 

sumption,  and  he  knew  he  could  add  ten  years  to  their 
lives  by  sending  them  to  the  milder  climate  of  the  South, 
his  conscience  would  not  justify  the  act,  so  utterly  does 
he  abhor  its  institutions." 

"  You  think,  then,  he  would  not  allow  his  daughter  to 
marry  a  Southerner?"  This  was  said  in  a  light,  sar- 
castic tone,  which  was  followed  by  one  more  serious. 
"Is  he  a  man  of  wealth  as  well  as  influence  ?" 

"No,  not  at  all.  His  father  left  him  considerable 
property,  but  he  has  wasted  it  in  fruitless  speculations 
and  visionary  schemes  for  the  improvement  of  the  age. 
He  always  has  a  hobby  which  he  rides  without  mercy  or 
judgment.  The  one  on  which  he  is  mounted  at  present 
is  the  immediate  emancipation  of  the  negro  race.  You 
must  not  feel  slighted  if  he  invites  your  servant  (I  do 
not  like  the  word  slave)  to  come  and  break  bread  with 
him,  without  extending  towards  you  the  rites  of  hospi- 
tality." 

"Is  there  a  possibility  of  his  doing  this?"  asked 
Moreland. 

"  We  can  only  judge  of  the  future  by  the  past," 
replied  the  architect.    "  Not  very  long  ago,  while  travel- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  41 

ling  in  a  neighbouring  state,  lie  came  across  a  runa- 
way negro,  one  of  the  most  repulsive  objects  I  ever 
saw, — gigantic  in  stature,  black  as  ebony,  with  coarse 
and  brutal  features,  and  manners  corresponding  to  his 
appearance.  He  took  him  at  once  under  his  protection, 
gave  him  a  seat  in  his  carriage,  brought  him  home, 
introduced  him  to  his  family,  gave  him  a  seat  at  table 
between  his  wife  and  eldest  daughter,  put  him  in  their 
best  bedroom,  and  appeared  to  feel  himself  honoured  by 
having  such  a  guest." 

"I  like  this,"  interrupted  Morsland ;  "it  shows  that 
he  is  sincere,  and  is  willing  to  put  his  principles  to  the 
proof.  But  Miss  Hastings,  surely  this  must  have  been 
very  repugnant  to  her  feelings ;  she  could  not  willingly 
submit  to  such  an  infliction." 

He  said  this  with  a  shudder  of  inexpressible  loathing, 
as  he  looked  on  the  delicate,  graceful  figure  walking 
before  him,  and  imagined  it  placed  in  such  close  juxta- 
position with  the  rough,  gigantic  negro. 

"I  suspect  Miss  Eulalia  did  not  relish  it  very  much," 
said  Mr.  Brooks;  "but  filial  respect  closed  her  lips. 
She  happened  to  fall  sick  immediately  after  his  arrival, 
whether  as  a  consequence  I  know  not,  and  thus  escaped 
further  personal  contact.  But  the  best  part  of  the 
story  is  to  come.  Mr.  Hastings,  after  he  had  gained 
sufficient  e"clat  for  his  philanthropy  and  great-hearted- 
ness,  was  very  willing  to  transfer  his  protege  to  some 
of  his  neighbours,  but  no  one  was  willing  to  accept  the 


42  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

responsibility,  and  the  fellow  liked  his  quarters  too  well 
to  think  of  leaving  them.  He  grew  very  insolent  and 
overbearing,  and  his  host  was  at  last  compelled  to  turn 
him  out  of  the  house.  Since  then,  he  has  had  a  double 
bolt  fastened  to  his  doors ;  and  his  dreams,  I  suspect, 
are  haunted  by  black  spectres,  armed  and  equipped  for 
murder  and  robbery." 

The  attention  of  Moreland  was  diverted  by  the 
diverging  steps  of  the  party  before  him.  They  turned 
aside  into  a  path  leading  to  a  neat,  modest-looking 
dwelling,  shaded  by  sycamore  trees,  beside  whose  deep 
green,  the  scarlet  berries  of  the  mountain  ash  gleamed 
with  coral  splendour.  Like  most  of  the  other  houses, 
it  wanted  the  graceful  verandah, — the  pillared  piazza  of 
Southern  climes, — and  gave  one  an  impression  of  glare 
and  exposure ;  but  the  smooth,  beautiful  green  that 
surrounded  it,  and  the  richness  of  branching  shade  that 
embosomed  it,  compensated  for  the  want  of  these  arti- 
ficial embellishments.  As  Mr.  Hastings  opened  the 
gate  that  shut  in  the  front  yard,  and  held  it  open  for 
his  daughters  to  pass  through,  the  handkerchief  of 
Eulalia  droppel  from  her  hand,  and  a  light  breeze  blew 
it  back  directly  at  the  feet  of  Moreland ;  he  caught  it 
with  eagerness,  and  as  she  turned  immediately,  with  a 
consciousness  of  the  loss,  he  stepped  forward  and  pre- 
sented it,  with  a  respectful  and  graceful  bow.  He  was 
thus  brought  face  to  face  with  her,  and  the  soft,  electric- 
beaming  eyes  seemed  to  shed  into  his  bosom  a  fioo^  of 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  43 

living  light.  With  an  impulse  bold  as  irresistible,  ho 
pressed  the  hand  which  received  the  handkerchief  from 
his ;  and  though  he  saw  the  startled  crimson  rush  to  her 
cheek,  he  could  not  repent  of  his  presumption.  He 
ould  not  help  doing  it, — it  was  an  expression  of  sym- 
pathy as  involuntary  as  it  was  sincere.  He  felt  as  if  a 
mighty  barrier  of  prejudice  separated  him  from  one  to 
whom  he  was  irresistibly  attracted,  and  he  was  forced 
in  this,  perhaps  their  only  meeting,  to  give  expression  in 
some  way  to  his  suddenly  awakened,  but  passionate 
emotions.  It  was  like  taking  the  hand  of  a  friend 
through  the  grate  of  a  convent,  the  bars  of  a  dungeon, 
in  token  of  a  long  farewell.  He  walked  in  silence  the 
rest  of  the  way ;  and  his  companion  smiled  to  himself 
at  the  impression  the  Flower  of  the  Village  had  evidently 
made  on  the  Southern  planter. 

Moreland  had  the  good  sense  to  tell  Albert  to  remain 
in  the  kitchen  during  meal-times,  so  that  the  equilibrium 
of  the  landlord  might  not  be  disturbed  by  an  appearance 
of  servility  on  one  part,  and  aristocracy  on  the  other. 
And,  whether  Mr.  Grimby  thought  he  had  taken  an 
ultra  step  the  preceding  evening,  or  whether  he  was 
influenced  by  Albert's  warm  praises  of  his  master,  and 
his  evident  attachment  and  devotion  to  him,  he  was  much 
more  polite  in  his  deportment  and  respectful  in  his  man- 
ners. Still,  he  was  anxious  to  draw  him  into  a  political 
or  sectional  discussion,  for  he  believed  himself,  in  strength 
of  argument,  superior  to  even  his  oracle,  Mr.  Hastings. 


44  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

So,  in  imitation  of  the  play  of  the  fox  and  glove,  ha 
went  round  and  round,  ready  to  drop  the  gauntlet  at  the 
most  favourable  moment.  But  Moreland's  mind  was 
preoccupied,  and  he  did  not  think  the  Sabbath  calm 
should  be  ruffled  by  the  contentions  of  party,  or  the 
warrings  of  self-love. 

He  did  not  attend  church  the  after  part  of  the 
day.  He  was  resolved  to  struggle  with  the  weakness 
which  he  blushed  to  feel.  He  would  not  place  himself 
again  within  the  influence  of  that  seraph  voice,  or  that 
fair,  music-breathing  face.  He  could  not  bridge  the 
gulf  of  prejudice  that  yawned  between  them ;  and  he 
would  not  linger  on  the  opposite  side  sighing  for  the 
flowers  that  bloomed  in  vain  for  him.  So  he  seated 
himself  at  the  window,  with  book  in  hand,  respecting 
himself  for  the  dignified  stand  he  had  mentally  taken  ; 
but  the  position  he  occupied  was  very  unfavourable  for 
the  strength  of  his  resolution.  The  church  was  so  near 
that  through  its  open  windows  he  could  hear  distinctly 
the  venerable  accents  of  the  minister,  and  the  sweet  and 
solemn  notes  of  the  choristers.  He  could  distinguish 
the  nightingale-voice,  which,  once  heard,  never  could  be 
forgotten, — it  came  flowing  out  into  the  sunshine,  min- 
gling with  and  melting  into  the  blue  waves  of  ether, 
rolling  in  the  "upper  deep ;"  it  came  floating  across  the 
gulf,  over  whose  bridgeless  depths  he  had  been  lament- 
ing, on  soft  and  downy  wings,  like  a  messenger  dove, 
bearing  promises  of  peace  and  love  ;  it  hovered  over  the 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  45 

dim  retreats  of  memory,  and  its  thrilling  strains  blended 
with  the  echoes  of  a  voice  which  had  in  other  hours 
enthralled  his  soul ; — but  that  had  breathed  of  the  pas- 
sions of  earth,  this  of  the  hopes  of  immortality.  Of 
course  he  could  not  read,  and,  suffering  the  book  to  fall 
from  his  fingers,  he  sunk  into  a  long,  deep  revery. 

Intending  to  recommence  his  journey  early  the  follow- 
ing morning,  he  thought  he  would  walk  out  before  sun- 
set, and  take  his  last  look  of  the  charming  valley  in 
which  the  village  was  set,  like  a  polished  gem.  Not 
seeing  his  agreeable  and  intelligent  new  friend,  the 
architect,  he  sauntered  along  without  any  companion 
but  his  own  thoughts,  turning  into  by-paths,  without 
knowing  whither  they  went,  assured  they  would  lead  him 
only  to  green  fields  and  tranquil  waters,  or,  perchance, 
to  some  garden  of  the  dead.  He  was  surprised  to  find 
himself  close  to  Nancy  Brown's  little  cottage.  He  re- 
cognised the  pale  purple  of  the  lilac  bushes  through  the 
old  dark  fence,  and  the  air  was  heavy  with  their  fra- 
grance. A  natural  movement  of  humanity  urged  him  to 
enter,  and  see  if  he  could  do  anything  more  for  the  poor 
invalid,  who  had  interested  his  feelings  so  much.  The 
door  was  open,  and  he  stood  on  its  threshold  withou 
having  his  approach  perceived.  She  was  there,  th 
white-robed,  singing  maiden  worshipper  of  the  temple, 
and  she  had  already  heard  the  story  of  his  kindness  and 
liberality  from  the  lips  of  the  grateful  Nan;y.  She  had 
just  been  listening  to  it,  and  the  glow  was  on  Ler  heart 
188 


46  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

when  lie  entered.  A  smile  of  welcome,  involuntary  as 
the  heart-beat,  which  at  that  moment  was  quickened, 
dawned  on  her  lips,  but  was  instantaneously  overcast  by 
a  cloud  of  reserve.  It  was  probably  the  recollection  of 
his  presumptuous  act  in  the  morning,  which  drew  the 
sudden  cloud  over  her  dawning  smile.  It  is  impossible 
to  describe  the  effect  of  her  appearance  in  that  little, 
low,  dark  cottage,  in  .contrast  with  extreme  age  and  de- 
crepitude on  one  side,  and  deadliness  and  emaciation  on 
the  other.  She  sat  between  Nancy  and  her  mother,  and 
each  poor,  pale,  drooping  figure  caught  something  of 
life  and  brightness  from  her  youthful  and  benignant 
aspect.  She  was  pale  too,  but  hers  was  the  pallor  of 
moonlight,  so  fair,  so  lustrous,  it  diffused  around  a  kin- 
dred softness  and  repose.  When  Moreland  first  stepped 
upon  the  threshold,  a  very  quick,  slight,  vanishing 
blush  flitted  over  her  cheek,  then  left  it  as  colourless 
and  calm  as  before. 

Nancy,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  face,  did  not 
perceive  as  quickly  the  entrance  of  her  benevolent 
visiter. 

"There  is  a  gentleman  at  the  door,"  said  Eulalia, 
rising  from  her  seat. 

Naicy  turned  round,  and,  recognising  the  kind  and 
liberal  Granger,  asked  him  to  walk  in,  and  offering  him 
her  own  chair,  took  a  seat  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  Her 
surprise  and  ..mbarrassment  brought  on  a  violent  fit  of 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  47 

coughing,  whose  hollow,  wasting  sound  reverberated 
painfully  in  the  narrow  apartment. 

"  This  is  the  good  gentleman  I  was  just  telling  you 
about,"  said  she,  as  soon  as  she  could  recover  breath. 
"Mother,  this  is  the  gentleman  that  carried  my  bundle 
for  me,  and  gave  me  that  money  last  night.  Oh,  sir,  I 
don't  know  what  to  say  to  you.  I  never  did  know  how 
to  talk,  but  there  are  a  heap  of  words  here,  if  I  could 
only  get  'em  out."  Here  Nancy  pressed  her  wasted 
hand  on  her  heart,  with  a  great  deal  of  expression, 
though  with  little  grace. 

"  The  Lord  bless  you,  sir  !"  cried  the  old  mother,  her 
voice  trembling  and  quavering  with  age  and  imbecility. 
"  The  Lord  reward  you  for  your  good  deeds !  Well, 
well,  I  never  would  have  believed  such  a  fine  gentleman 
as  you  would  have  carried  Nancy's  bundle  for  her.  I 
never  would.  Well,  it's  a  blessed  thing  not  to  be  proud. 
Just  like  Miss  Euly  here.  She  ha'in't  got  one  bit  of 
pride.  She's  just  as  willing  to  wait  on  such  a  poor  old 
creatur  as  me,  as  if  I  was  of  some  account  in  the  world." 

It  was  pleasant  to  the  ear  of  Moreland  to  find  himself 
associated  with  Eulalia  Hastings,  even  in  the  mind  ot 
this  humble,  indigent  creature.  There  was  another 
thing  that  pleased  him.  The  woman  was  not  mercenary. 
She  appreciated  more  highly  the  simple  act  of  conde- 
scension, the  carrying  of  the  bundle,  than  the  money 
which  was  given  to  relieve  their  wants.  He  had  too 
much  ease  of  manner,  had  seen  too  much  of  the  world, 


48  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

to  suffer  himself  to  be. embarrassed  by  this  unexpected 
meeting.  He  thought  there  was  something  peculiar  in 
it ;  the  accidental  arrangement  of  circumstances  which 
brought  him  in  contact  with  the  lovely  chorister.  The 
distance  between  them  seemed  wonderfully  diminished. 
When  he  first  saw  her,  in  her  elevated  position  in  the 
gallery,  singing  the  praise  of  God  in  words  of  surpassing 
grandeur,  his  imagination  exalted  her  into  one  of  that 
celestial  band  who  stand  in  white  robes  about  the  throne, 
day  and  night,  chanting  the  eternal  chorus,  "Hallelu- 
jah !  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth."  Now,  she 
was  on  a  level  with  himself,  seated  near  him  in  the  abode 
of  indigence  and  suffering ;  he  heard  her  gentle,  speak- 
ing accents,  fraught  with  human  sympathy  and  sensibi- 
lity. He  began  to  think  it  possible  that  he  might 
defer  his  journey  a  few  days  longer.  There  was  nothing 
particularly  to  hasten  his  return.  It  was  far  better  for 
him  to  be  away,  far  from  the  remembrances  that  dark- 
ened his  home.  He  could  not  possibly  find  a  more 
quiet  resting  spot  than  in  this  beautiful  valley,  where 

"  The  green  of  the  earth  and  the  blue  of  the  sky" 

seemed  to  meet  in  gorgeous  rivalship. 

Would  it  not  be  well  to  seek  an  acquaintance  with 
Mr.  Hastings,  and  endeavour,  with  earnestness  and  de- 
liberation, to  remove  his  prejudices  and  give  him  juster 
views  of  his  fellow  beings  ?  While  he  thus  communed 
with  himself,  Mrs.  Brown  was  not  idle.     In  the  inno- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  49 

cence  and  curiosity  of  second  childhood,  she  sat  gazing 
on  their  elegant  visiter,  through  the  spectacles,  which 
she  wiped  at  least  a  dozen  times  with  the  corner  of  her 
checked  apron,  so  as  to  assist  her  faded  vision. 

"May  I  make  bold  to  ask  your  name,  sir?"  said  she. 
"I  know  most  everybody  that  lives  hereabouts,  but  I 
don't  think  you  live  in  these  parts,  do  you?" 

"  I  should  ask  your  pardon  for  not  introducing  myself 
sooner,  madam,"  was  the  courteous  reply.  "My  name 
is  Moreland.     I  reside  in  the  distant  South." 

"The  South!"  repeated  the  octogenarian.  "Well, 
that  is  far  off.     What  part  of  the  South?" 

"I  reside  in  Georgia." 

"The  South!"  again  repeated  she,  bewildered  by  the 
idea  of  such  immense  distance.  "  Ain't  it  there  where 
they  have  so  many  black  folks  to  wait  on  'em,  with  great 
iron  chains  on  their  hands  and  feet  ?  Well,  well,  who 
would  have  thought  it  ?  You  don't  look  as  if  you  come 
from^among  such  a  dreadful  set  of  people — not  one  bit. 
Law  me  !  you  don't  say  so  !" 

Here  she  again  took  off  her  spectacles,  wiped  them 
laboriously,  readjusted  them,  and  fixed  her  dim,  glim- 
mering glance  once  more  on  the  face  of  the  Southern 
stranger.  She  was  probably  searching  for  those  linea- 
ments of  harshness  and  cruelty,  those  lines  of  tiger 
grimness  and  ferocity,  she  had  so  often  heard  described. 

"Mother!"  exclaimed  jSTancy,  whose  natural  delicacy 
of  feeling  and  deep  gratitude  were  greatly  shocked  by 


50  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

these  remarks,  "you'll  offend  the  gentleman.  She 
don't  mean  any  harm,  sir — no  more  than  a  child." 

"Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  be  offended,"  said  More- 
land,  with  an  irrepressible  smile  at  the  old  lady's  perse- 
vering scrutiny.  "  I  like  to  hear  what  people  think  of 
us.  It  may  do  us  good.  You  are  mistaken,  madam," 
added  he,  addressing  the  mother;  "  our  black  people  do 
not  wear  chains,  unless  outrageous  and  criminal  beha- 
viour force  us  to  such  severity." 

Perhaps  Moreland  would  not  have  thought  it  worth 
the  effort,  to  refute  the  charges  of  a  poor,  imbecile, 
ignorant  woman,  who  only  repeated  what  she  had  heard 
from  higher  powers,  had  not  the  daughter  of  Hastings 
been  present  to  listen  to  his  words.  But  he  could  not 
bear  that  she  should  look  upon  him  as  one  of  that 
"  dreadful  set,"  represented  as  dwelling  amid  clanking 
chains  and  galling  manacles,  and  banqueting  on  human 
blood.  He  saw,  that  though  her  eye  was  cast  modestly 
downward,  she  was  no  inattentive  or  uninterested  lis- 
tener. 

"Well,"  ejaculated  the  old  lady,  half  in  soliloquy  and 
half  in  harangue — "  I  don't  mean  to  give  offence,  to  be 
sure.  You've  been  mighty  good  to  Nancy,  and  I  can't 
take  away  the  blessing  that's  gone  up  to  heaven  for  you 
now,  if  I  wanted  to.  But  I'm  sorry  such  a  likely,  kind- 
hearted  gentleman  as  you  seem  to  be,  should  live  where 
such  a  sinful  traffic  is  carried  on.  I've  hearn  Squire 
Hastings  tell  such  awful  things  about  it,  it  e'enamost 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  51 

made  my  hair  stand  on  end.  He  used  to  lecture  and 
speechify  in  the  school-house  close  by,  and  as  long  as  I 
could  hobble  out  doors  I  went  to  hear  him,  for  it  always 
helped  me  powerfully  in  spirit.  He's  a  mighty  knowing 
man,  and  has  a  way  of  telling  things  that  makes  one's 
flesh  creep.  He's  her  father,  Squire  Hastings  is.  She 
ain't  ashamed  to  hear  me  tell  on't." 

Eulalia  made  a  scarcely  perceptible  shrinking,  back- 
ward motion,  at  this  eulogium  on  her  father.  She  had 
heard  it  many  a  time  before,  but  it  never  had  seemed  so 
exaggerated  or  ill-timed  as  at  the  present  moment. 

"I  am  sorry  you  have  been  led  to  believe  us  so  aw- 
fully wicked  and  cruel,  my  good  woman,"  said  Moreland, 
looking  at  Eulalia's  evidently  troubled  countenance, 
though  his  words  were  addressed  to  Dame  Brown.  "  1 
cannot  wonder  so  much  at  yourself,  who  have  probably 
lived  secluded  from  the  world,  and  received  your  opinions 
from  those  around ;  but  that  those,  who  have  had  abun- 
dant opportunities  of  knowing  what  we  really  are,  beings 
of  like  passions  with  themselves,  as  upright  in  principle, 
as  honest  in  opinion,  as  kind  in  action,  should  represent 
us  as  such  monsters  of  iniquity,  does  indeed  seem  won- 
derful. We  claim  no  exemption  from  the  faults  and 
failings  of  poor  fallen  humanity,  but  we  do  claim  a  share 
of  its  virtues.  The  clanking  chains  of  which  you  speak 
are  mere  figures  of  speech.  You  hear  instead  merry 
voices  singing  in  the  fields  of  labour  or  filling  up  the 
pauses  of  toil.     Sadly  have  I  missed  in  my  northern 


52  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

travels,  the  joyous  songs  and  exhilarating  laughter  of 
our  slaves." 

"You  don't  say  so!  Well,  well!  One  does  hear 
such  strange  things.  You  don't  say  they  ever  sing  and 
laugh!  Why,  I  thought  they  did  nothing  but  cry  and 
groan  and  gnash  their  teeth,  all  the  day  long.  Well,  it 
'is  hard  to  know  what  to  believe." 

"I  wish  you  were  able  to  travel  so  far,"  said  More- 
land,  looking  compassionately  at  Nancy's  hectic  cheeks, 
"  and  occupy  a  cabin  in  one  of  my  plantations,  where 
the  balmy  air  would  restore  you  to  health.  One  day 
passed  in  the  midst  of  the  negroes  would  be  worth  a 
thousand  arguments  in  our  favour.  You  would  see  there, 
age  free  from  care  or  labour,  sickness  tenderly  nursed, 
and  helplessness  amply  provided  for.  The  poor  invalid 
is  not  compelled  to  leave  the  master  whom  she  has 
served,  when  health  and  strength  are  exhausted,  but, 
without  any  care  or  forethought  of  her  own,  is  watched 
over  as  kindly  as  if  born  of  a  fairer  race." 

Nancy  sighed.  She  thought  of  her  days  of  servitude, 
her  waning  health,  her  anxious  fears  and  torturing  appre- 
hensions of  future  want,  and  it  seemed  to  her  the  mere 
exemption  from  such  far-reaching  solicitudes  must  be  a 
blessing.  She  thought,  too,  of  the  soft,  mild  atmosphere 
that  flowed  around  those  children  of  toil,  and  wished  she 
could  breathe  its  balm. 

"  I  wish  it  was  not  so  far  off,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  but," 
she  added,  with  a  deeper  sigh,   "  I  never  could  live  to 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  53 

reach  there.  And  if  I  could,  mother  is  too  old  to  bear 
the  journey.     And  then  we  couldn't  afford  it." 

Moreland  was  sorry  he  had  suggested  an  impracticable 
idea.  He  did  not  intend  to  raise  hopes  which  could  not 
e  realized,  though  so  uncalculating  was  his  benevolence 
e  would  willingly  have  paid  the  expenses  of  the  jour- 
ney, if  by  so  doing  he  could  have  restored  health  to  her 
frail  and  broken  constitution. 

"We've  mighty  good  friends  here,"  said  the  old  lady, 
wiping  away  the  falling  tears  with  the  corner  of  her 
apron.  "Miss  Euly  is  just  like  an  angel  to  us;  and 
there  are  others  too,  who,  if  they  don't  look  as  pretty, 
are  'most  as  kind  as  she  is." 

Eulalia  rose  to  depart.  She  had  lingered  in  the  hope 
that  Moreland  would  go,  but  the  sun  was  darting  his 
horizontal  rays  through  the  window,  throwing  rosy  lines 
across  her  fair  face,  and  she  felt  he  was  waiting  her 
motion.  She  felt  embarrassed  when  he  also  rose,  doubt- 
ing the  propriety  of  being  escorted  by  a  stranger. 

"  I  will  see  you  again,"  were  his  parting  words  to 
Nancy  and  her  mother.  So  it  was  evident  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  not  to  leave  on  the  morrow. 

"May  I  escort  you  home?"  he  asked,  when  he  opened 
the  gate  for  her  to  pass  out.  "  Though  we  have  had  no 
formal  introduction,  I  have  announced  my  own  name, 
and  I  know  it  is  Miss  Hastings  whom  I  have  the  honour 
of  addressing." 

"  We   village   maidens   are   quite  independent,"   she 


54  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

replied,  with  a  smile  ;  "we  are  not  accustomed  to  escorts 
in  our  rural  walks,  especially  when  leading  from  such 
lowly  dwellings.  Strangers  seldom  find  out  as  readily 
as  you  have  done,  sir,  the  abodes  of  poverty." 

"It  was  accident,"  he  answered,  gratified  by  her 
manner,  which  implied  approbation,  if  not  interest,  "I 
can  claim  no  credit  for  seeking.  Though  you  must  have 
discovered  that  I  am  disposed  to  arrogate  to  myself  all 
the  merit  I  can  possibly  lay  hold  of,  I  hope  you  will  not 
think  me  a  vain  boaster." 

"I  think  you  have  the  power  of  making  the  worse 
appear  the  better  reason,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  that 
softened  the  sarcasm  of  her  words. 

"You  have  no  pleasing  impressions,  I  fear,  of  our 
beautiful  South,  Miss  Hastings.  You  have  had  dark 
and  forbidding  pictures  drawn  of  it.  You  look  upon  it 
as  a  moral  Aceldama,  and  shudder  at  the  view.  Is  it 
not  so  ?" 

"I  love  to  think  of  your  sunny  clime,"  she  answered, 
while  a  dawning  colour  mingled  with  the  glow  of  sunset 
on  her  cheek,  "of  your  magnolia  bowers  and  flowery 
plains.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  your  chivalry  and 
liberality,  and  love  to  listen  to  their  praises ;  but  I  do 
not  love  to  think  of  the  dark  spot  in  your  social  system, 
that  is  gradually  spreading  and  deepening,  and  destroy- 
ing all  its  beauty  and  happiness.  I  do  shudder  when 
I  think  of  this.  I  did  not  mean  to  say  so  much,  but 
you  have  forced  it  from  me." 


THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  DO 

"I  admire  your  candour.  I  did  not  expect  to  hear 
you  speak  so  mildly,  considering  the  prejudices  of  birth 
and  education.  Your  father  is,  I  understand,  an  avowed 
champion  of  what  he  believes  to  be  truth,  and  it  is  per- 
fectly natural  that  you  should  respect  his  opinions  an  1 
adopt  them  as  your  own.  Yet,  if  you  grant  me  the 
privilege  of  your  acquaintance,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  con- 
vince you  that  those  opinions  are  erroneous,  and  that 
though  we  have  a  dark  spot  in  our  social  system,  like 
every  other  cloud,  'it  turns  its  silver  lining  to  the 
light.'  " 

"My  father  does  not  adopt  his  opinions  lightly,"  said 
she,  with  modest  emphasis  ;  "he  has  been  a  great  student 
from  his  youth  up,  and  something  of  a  traveller,  too. 
He  does  not  wish  to  believe  evil  of  mankind,  neither 
does  he,  until  the  conviction  is  forced  upon  him." 

"  But  you  would  not  regret,  if  I  could  prove  to  you 
that  he  was  mistaken  in  his  estimate  of  Southern 
character, — that  there  is  far  less  of  cruelty,  oppression, 
and  sorrow  in  our  midst  than  you  now  believe, — would 
you?" 

This  was  said  with  such  irresistible  frankness,  that 
had  Eulalia  been  a  more  obstinate  adherent  than  she 
was  to  her  father's  sentiments,  she  could  not  have 
uttered  a  cold  negation.  Naturally  as  reserved  as  she 
was  modest,  she  was  surprised  at  the  freedom  of  her 
conversation  with  an  utter  stranger.  His  morning  bold- 
ness, which  she  had  at  first  deeply  resented  (though  she 


56  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

made  no  commentary  on  it  to  her  father),  now  occurred 
to  her  as  accidental ;  he  had  probably  merely  intended 
to  take  a  firm  hold  of  the  handkerchief,  and  grasped  her 
hand  instead.  She  could  not  help  being  pleased  with 
the  ease  and  grace  of  his  manners ;  and  the  kindness 
and  condescension  she  had  witnessed  in  Mrs.  Brown's 
cottage  were  genuine  passports  to  her  favour.  It  was 
not  often,  in  the  retirement  of  her  village  home,  that 
her  exquisite  sense  of  refinement  was  so  fully  gratified ; 
she  had  lived  in  a  world  of  her  own,  whose  visionary 
inhabitants  were  very  much  such  beings  as  Moreland. 
He  did  not  seem  like  a  stranger,  but  rather  as  the  incar- 
nation of  her  own  bright  and  beautiful  idealities.  She 
wanted  her  father  to  know  him,  to  hear  him  talk,  and 
listen  to  his  eloquent  self-defence.  She  was  astonished 
when  she  reached  their  own  gate,  the  walk  had  seemed 
so  very  short,  and  wondered  what  had  become  of  the 
setting  sun, — she  had  not  marked  its  going  down. 

"Sister  Eula !  have  you  come  back?"  exclaimed  a 
sweet  voice,  through  the  bars  of  the  gate,  and  a  little 
sunshiny  head  was  seen  beaming  behind  it.  She,  Eula's 
morning  companion,  stood  with  her  feet  on  the  lower 
round  of  the  gate,  and,  when  it  was  opened,  swung  back 
with  it,  laughing  merrily  at  having  secured  so  brave  a 
ride. 

Moreland,  who  was  very  fond  of  children,  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  promising  her  a  better  and  longer  ride 
than  the  limits  of  the  gate  could  furnish. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  57 

"I've  seen  you  before,"  said  she,  peeping  at  him 
through  her  bright  hair,  which  fell  shadingly  over  her 
brow;  "I  saw  you  this  morning;  you  picked  up  sister 
Eula's  handkerchief.     Papa  said — " 

"Dora!"  interrupted  Eulalia,  "here  are  some  flowers 
for  you.  Nancy  gave  them  to  me.  Don't  you  want 
them  ?"  ' 

"Oh,  yes!"  exclaimed  the  child,  eagerly  extending 
her  hand,  and  forgetting  what  papa  had  said,  which 
Moreland  would  have  very  much  liked  to  hear. 

Papa  was  standing  in  the  door,  looking  very  portly 
and  dignified,  not  a  little  surprised  at  seeing  the  stranger 
whom  he  had  so  keenly  observed  in  the  morning,  walk- 
ing quietly  up  his  own  yard,  in  company  with  one 
daughter,  and  bearing  the  other,  perched  like  a  bird  on 
his  shoulder. 

"Papa,  don't  you  see  me  riding?"  cried  Dora,  from 
her  elevated  seat,  long  before  they  reached  the  door. 

Mr.  Hastings  descended  the  steps,  and  the  child  leaped 
into  his  arms. 

"Little  romp!"  cried  he,  setting  her  down  very 
kindly,  "go  to  your  mother."  And  away  she  flew  to 
tell  her  mother  of  the  stranger's  coming,  and  her-  own 
marvellous  adventure. 

"Mr.  Moreland,  father,"  said  Eulalia.  "He  met  me 
at  Mrs.  Brown's  cottage,  and  it  being  late,  he  accom- 
panied me  home." 

Moreland   felt  something  as  if  a  gimlet  were  boring 


58  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

in  his  flesh,  while  enduring  the  piercing  glance  of  the 
philanthropist ;  but  he  did  not  wince  under  the  infliction, 
though  it  somewhat  galled  him. 

"  Won't  you  walk  in,  sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Hastings,  holding 
out  his  hand.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  if  you  have  time  to  sit 
clown." 

This  was  an  unexpected  condescension,  of  which 
Moreland  unhesitatingly  availed  himself.  He  wanted  to 
enter  the  home  of  Eulalia,  and  see  her  in  the  midst  of 
domestic  associations. 

"He  has  not  seen  the  tiger's  claws,"  thought  More- 
land;  "or,  perhaps,  like  the  keeper  of  a  menagerie,  he 
confronts  the  wild  beast  that  he  may  have  the  glory  of 
taming  him." 

They  entered  a  very  neat  and  modestly  furnished 
parlour,  curtained  with  white  muslin  and  carpeted  with 
domestic  manufacture.  The  furniture  was  of  the  sim- 
plest kind,  though  there  was  an  air  of  taste  and  even 
elegance  diffused  over  the  room.  There  was  a  pretty 
work-box  inlaid  with  pearl  and  surrounded  by  hand- 
somely bound  books,  on  the  centre  table.  These  he  set 
down  at  once  as  the  property  of  Eulalia.  There  were 
beautiful  flowers,  not  in  gilded  vases,  but  set  in  crystals 
on  the  mantelpiece.  These,  he  was  convinced,  had  been 
arranged  by  the  hands  of  Eulalia.  He  looked  in  vain 
for  a  piano  or  guitar,  as  accompaniments  to  her  enchant- 
ing voice. 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  said   Mr.  Hastings,   trying   to 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    ERIDE.  50 

draw  forward  a  prim-looking  arm-chair,  which  was 
known  in  the  household  by  the  patronymic  of  old  maid, 
from  its  peculiarly  precise  appearance — "  and  make 
yourself  at  home.     We  don't  use  any  ceremony  here." 

"Ceremony  is  the  greatest  enemy  of  enjoyment," 
said  Moreland,  waiving  the  chair  of  state,  and  seating 
himself  in  one  of  less  ambitious  appearance.  "  I  trust 
I  am  not  encroaching  on  your  hospitality,  by  accepting 
your  invitation  too  readily.  This  is  a  Sabbath  evening, 
and  you  may  be  accustomed  to  pass  it  with  your  family 
alone.  A  stranger  may  intermeddle  with  your  joys. 
If  so,  I  would  not,  for  any  consideration,  intrude." 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  sir,"  replied  his  host.  "We 
commence  our  Sundays  on  Saturday  night,  and  when 
the  Sabbath  sun  goes  down,  we  feel  privileged  to  enjoy 
social  intercourse  with  our  neighbours  and  friends ; 
quiet,  sober  intercourse  of  course,  but  we  do  not  object 
to  a  friendly  call.  Stay  and  take  tea  with  us.  We  will 
be  happy  to  have  you.  Eula,  tell  your  mother  a  gentle- 
man will  partake  of  our  family  supper." 

How  could  Moreland  refuse  such  a  cordial  invitation  ? 
Of  course  he  did  not,  but  accepted  it  with  all  imaginable 
readiness.  He  could  not  account  for  this  unexpected 
hospitality,  where  he  had  looked  scarcely  for  ordinary 
courtesy.  He  was  unconsciously  doing  Mr.  Hastings 
great  injustice.  It  does  not  follow,  because  a  man  is 
narrow  and  one-sided  in  his  views,  and  bitter  and  obsti- 
nate in  his  prejudices,  that  he  is  destitute  of  social  graces 


60  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

and  domestic  virtues.  Moreland  had  his  prejudices  too, 
though  he  did  not  know  it.  He  had  imagined  there  was 
very  little  hospitality  at  the  North,  and  that  strangers 
were  looked  upon  with  a  cold  and  suspicious  eye.  He 
thought  the  hearts  of  people  were  cold  in  proportion  as 
they  receded  from  the  burning  sun  of  the  tropics,  and 
that  passion,  the  great  central  fire  of  the  human  bosom, 
giving  life  and  splendour  to  every  other  element,  was 
wanting  in  the  less  genial  latitude  he  was  now  crossing. 

Mr.  Hastings,  like  most  men,  was  actuated  by  mixed 
motives.  He  believed  in  the  good  old  scripture  injunc- 
tion of  hospitality  to  strangers,  and  he  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  making  imjjressions,  and  enlarging  the  bounds 
of  his  influence.  He  took  great  pride  in  his  argument- 
ative powers,  and  thought  he  should  have  a  dazzling 
opportunity  to  display  them.  He  saw  in  prospective  a 
glorious  field  of  disputation,  where  he  would  gather  more 
laurels  than  he  could  possibly  dispose  of.  His  prophetic 
glance  pierced  still  further,  and  he  beheld  one  black  wave 
rolling  after  another  from  the  Southern  shores,  before 
the  resistless  gales  of  his  eloquence. 

He  was  very  fond  of  distinction.  He  loved  to  have 
strangers  call  at  his  house,  assured  that  when  they  left 
the  place,  they  would  carry  the  impression  that  Mr. 
Hastings  was  the  greatest  man  in  the  village,  nay  more, 
the  greatest  man  in  the  country.  Then  he  was  very 
fond  of  his  children.  Eulalia  was  the  pride  of  his  heart 
and  the  delight  of  his  eyes.     The  simple  attention  of 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  61 

escorting  her  home  pleased  him.  The  caressing  kindness 
to  little  Dora  charmed  him ;  and,  though  the  stranger 
belonged  to  a  class  of  men  whom  he  denounced  as  devoid 
of  humanity,  principle,  or  religion,  against  whom  he 
had  commenced  a  deadly  crusade,  with  all  the  fanaticism 
of  Peter  the  Hermit,  and  the  rashness  of  Richard  Cceur 
de  Lion ;  moved  by  all  these  blended  motives,  he  smiled 
blandly  upon  him,  giving  a  gentle  friction  to  his  hands, 
as  if  to  warm  and  ignite  his  hospitable  feelings. 

It  was  not  long  before  little  Dora  came  into  the  room 
with  a  hop-skip-and-jump  step,  announcing  that  supper  was 
ready ;  and  Mr.  Hastings,  with  a  courteous  bow,  ushered 
his  guest  into  an  adjoining  room,  where  the  family  board 
was  spread;  here  he  was  introduced  to  "my  wife," — a 
very  intelligent  and  dignified-looking  lady, — and  "  my 
son  Reuben,"  a  handsome,  bright-eyed,  auburn-locked 
youth  of  about  seventeen,  who  perused  the  stranger's 
lineaments  with  vivid  curiosity, — "  Eulalia,  my  daughter, 
you  have  already  seen."  Yes  !  he  had  seen  Eulalia, — 
it  was  a  circumstance  he  was  not  likely  to  forget.  He 
had  seen  her  in  the  house  of  God,  surrounded  by  a  halo 
of  music  and  prayer ; — he  had  seen  her  in  the  cottage 
of  the  poor,  making  the  dark  and  lowly  places  of  life 
beautiful  by  her  presence ; — he  now  saw  her  presiding 
with  quiet  grace  and  self-possession  at  her  father's 
board,  for  she  occupied  her  mother's  seat  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  behind  an  old-fashioned,  massy  silver  urn. 
This  shining  relic  of  antiquity  reflected  brilliantly  the 
139 


62  THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

lamp-light  that  flowed  from  the  centre  of  the  table,  and 
it  also  seemed  to  reflect  the  soft,  virgin  lustre  of  Eulalia's 
illuminated  face.  It  was  a  real  patriarch,  this  old  tiger- 
footed  silver  urn,  having  descended  through  three  gene- 
rations, and  it  set  off  the  table  wonderfully. 

Dora  slided  into  a  seat  on  the  left  hand  of  Moreland, 
who,  in  gratitude  for  the  compliment,  helped  her  most 
munificently  to  butter  and  honey,  which  a  glance  from 
her  mother's  eye  admonished  her  not  to  eat  too  lavishly. 

"  We  are  accustomed  to  wait  upon  ourselves  at  table," 
said  Mr.  Hastings,  as  Moreland  received  his  cup  of 
coffee  from  Eulalia's  hand;  "I  fear  our  independent 
mode  of  living  cannot  be  very  agreeable  to  you,  sir, 
whose  customs  are  so  different." 

"  On  the  contrary,  nothing  can  be  more  agreeable 
than  a  family  circle  like  this,  uninterrupted  by  the  pre- 
sence of  attendants,  oftentimes  as  useless  as  they  are 
annoying." 

'  Indeed !  I  thought  a  table  at  the  South  was  never 
considered  properly  set  without  a  negro  placed  at  the 
back  of  every  chair." 

"  I  do  not  think  the  number  of  chairs  governs  the 
number  of  attendants,"  answered  Moreland,  with  a 
smile;  " though  there  is  usually  a  superfluity.  Yielding 
to  the  force  of  habit,  I  allow  myself  to  be  waited  on, 
without  thinking  of  it,  though  I  consider  it  by  no  means 
indispensable." 

"I  am  glad  you  can  conform  so  readily  to  our  plain, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  G3 

republican  habits.  How  do  you  like  our  Northern  por- 
tion of  the  country,  sir?" 

"I  see  much  to  admire  in  the  luxuriance  of  your 
vegetation,  your  rich,  blooming  clover  fields  and  culti- 
vated plains.  I  admire  it  most  as  a  proof  of  the  energy 
and  industry  of  the  sons  of  New  England,  which  can 
convert  your  hard  and  granite  soil  into  regions  of  beauty 
and  fertility,  rivalling  the  spontaneous  richness  of  the 
South.  I  am  charmed  with  your  delightful  summer 
climate,  so  soft,  yet  invigorating ;  and  I  honour  your 
noble  institutions.  But,"  he  added,  "I  admire,  most 
of  all,  the  intelligence,  refinement,  and  loveliness  of  the 
daughters  of  New  England,  to  which  description  has 
never  done  justice." 

Surely,  Moreland  was  trying  to  ingratiate  himself  in 
the  favour  of  the  family,  by  this  fine  and  flattering 
speech ;  but  though  it  sounded  very  much  like  one  pre- 
pared and  polished  for  the  occasion,  it  was  nevertheless 
spontaneous  and  sincere.  By  pluralizing  the  daughter 
of  Mr.  Hastings,  he  had  ventured  to  express  an  admi- 
ration becoming  too  strong  for  repression.  He  forgot 
the  barriers  which  a  few  hours  before  had  seemed  so 
insurmountable ;  he  forgot  that  Mr.  Hastings  was  the 
avowed  enemy  of  his  dearest  social  and  domestic  rights 
and  privileges ;  that  probably  the  very  seat  which  he 
now  occupied  was  lately  filled  by  a  gigantic  negro ;  that 
the  fair  hands  of  Eulalia  had  poured  coffee  for  him  from 
that  silver  urn  ;  and  that  the  smile  of  welcome  beamed 


64  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

as  kindly  on  one  as  the  other.  He  remembered  only 
the  loveliness  of  her  person,  the  sweetness  of  her  man- 
ners, the  inexpressible  charm  that  drew  him  towards 
her. 

"  Sister  Eula  stamped  that  butter,"  whispered  Dora, 
as  his  knife  severed  a  yellow  rose  from  its  stem.  "  She 
made  that  plum  cake,  too." 

Moreland  smiled  at  the  communication,  imparted  with 
the  innocent  desire  of  elevating  Sister  Eula  in  his  esti- 
mation, and  thought  the  butter  and  the  cake  had  a 
double  relish.  No  one  had  heard  Dora's  whispered 
secret  but  himself,  she  had  brought  her  rosy  little  mouth 
in  such  close  proximity  with  his  ear. 

"It  is  not  polite  to  whisper  at  table,  Dora,"  said  her 
mother,  gently,  but  reprovingly,  and  Dora  hung  her 
head  and  put  her  finger  in  her  mouth,  with  suddenly- 
acquired  awkwardness.  Moreland,  excessively  amused 
by  the  remark  and  its  consequences,  glanced  at  Eula- 
lia's  hand,  which  happened  to  be  raised  at  that  moment 
to  shade  back  a  loosened  ringlet  from  her  cheek.  The 
glance  was  suggested  by  the  thought  that  the  hand 
which  had  been  employed  in  moulding  and  spatting  that 
golden  ball,  and  manufacturing  that  excellent  cake, 
could  not  possess  much  feminine  delicacy  of  colour  or 
lineament,  but  he  was  pleased  to  see  that  it  was  fair  and 
symmetrical.  Not  so  dazzlingly  white  as  Claudia's 
snowy,  but  perjured  hand,  but  pure  from  the  stains  of 
labour,  and  harmonizing  with  the  delicacy  of  her  face. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERID1  65 

The  truth  was,  Eulalia  knew  nothing  of  the  drudgery 
of  housekeeping,  and  but  little  of  its  cares.  She  wag 
wonderfully  expert  with  her  needle,  as  her  father's  and 
brother's  shirts,  her  mother's  and  sister's  dresses  could 
testify,  had  they  tongues  to  speak.  But  her  mother 
who  was  very  proud  of  Eulalia's  beauty,  and  very  care- 
ful to  keep  it  in  high  preservation,  had  habituated  her 
to  sew  in  gloves,  with  truncated  fingers,  ingeniously 
adapted  for  such  a  purpose.  She  swept  and  garnished 
her  own  room  every  day  till  it  was  a  miracle  of  neatness  ; 
but  she  had  been  taught,  as  a  regular  duty,  to  draw  on 
a  pair  of  thick  woollen  mittens  before  she  wielded  the 
broom  and  exercised  the  duster.  Had  it  not  been  for 
her  mother's  watchfulness,  Eulalia's  hands  might  not 
have  justified  the  admiration  of  the  fastidiously  observing 
Moreland. 

Though  no  servant  attended  the  supper  table,  and 
Mr.  Hastings  boasted  of  their  independence,  they  had  a 
woman  of  all  ivork  in  the  kitchen,  whose  labour  would 
have  shamed  the  toil  of  three  of  Moreland's  stoutest 
slaves.  She  rose  with  the  dawn  of  day,  and  continued 
her  tread-mill  course  till  its  close.  She  baked  and 
brewed  and  washed  and  ironed  and  scrubbed  and 
scoured,  hardly  giving  herself  time  to  talk,  or  sitting 
clown  but  to  eat.  It  is  true,  Mrs.  Hastings  assisted  her 
in  many  of  these  operations,  but  the  heavy  burden  of 
toil  rested  on  her,  and  they  dreamed  not,  because  she 
was  willing  to  assume  it  for  the  weekly  stipend  she  re- 


66  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

ceived,  that  they  exacted  too  much  of  her  health  and 
strength.  It  is  true,  that  every  night,  to  use  her  own 
■words,  "  she  was  fagged  out  and  tired  e'en  a'most  to  death, 
hut  she  had  it  to  do,  and  there  was  no  use  in  grumbling 
about  it.  If  she  didn't  take  care  of  herself,  who  would  ? 
If  she  didn't  try  and  lay  up  something  for  a  rainy  day, 
she  wondered  how  she  was  to  be  taken  care  of,  if  she 
was  sick  and  had  to  be  laid  by."  So  Betsy  Jones  toiled 
on,  and  her  one  dollar  and  a  half  per  week,  supplied 
clothes  for  herself  and  orphan  brother,  who  was  inca- 
pacitated, by  lameness,  from  earning  his  daily  bread. 
The  physician's  fees,  who  attended  him,  were  also 
drained  from  the  same  source.  How  much  she  had  to 
lay  up  for  a  rainy  day  may  be  easily  imagined.  Betsy 
had  none  of  the  false  pride  which  is  often  found  in  her 
class.  She  had  no  ambition  to  put  herself  upon  a  per- 
fect equality  with  her  employers.  She  did  not  care 
about  sitting  down  with  them  at  meal  time,  nor  did  she 
disdain  the  summons  of  a  tinkling  bell. 

"I  should  look  putty,"  she  said,  "sitting  down  in 
my  dirty  duds  by  the  side  of  Miss  Euly,  fixed  off  in  all 
her  niceties.  I  don't  care  about  sitting  down  till  I've 
done  all  my  drudgery  and  all  my  little  chores,  and  then 
I'm  too  jaded  out  to  think  of  primping  and  furbishing 
up  for  company.  If  I've  got  to  work  I'll  work,  and  done 
with  it,  let  alone  trying  to  be  a  lady." 

But  with  all  Betsy's  humility,  she  had  a  just  appre- 
ciation of  herself,  and  could  assert  her  dignity,  when 


THE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  67 

occasion  required,  with  due  emphasis.  When  Mr.  Hast- 
ings installed  his  sable  protege"  into  the  honours  of  the 
household,  when  she  saw  him  introduced  into  the  guest 
chamber,  where  he  swathed  his  huge  limbs  in  the  nice 
linen  sheets  she  had  so  carefully  bleached  and  ironed, 
and  she  was  called  upon  to  make  up  the  bed  and  arrange 
the  room,  she  stoutly  rebelled,  and  declared  "she 
wouldn't  do  no  such  thing.  She  wa'n't  hired  to  wait 
upon  a  nasty  runaway,  who  she  knew  never  had  to  work 
half  as  hard  as  she  had.  Great,  lazy,  good-for-nothing 
fellow,  that  he  was.  lie  talk  about  being  abused  like 
a  dog !  Why  he  was  as  fat  as  stall-fed  beef,  and  as 
strong  as  a  lion." 

"Well,  Betsy,  I  must  do  it  myself  then,"  said  Mrs. 
Hastings,  "rather  than  waste  any  more  words  about  it. 
I  am  sorry,  however,  to  see  that  you  have  no  more  com- 
passion for  a  poor,  hunted,  persecuted  being,  whom  my 
husband  has  seen  fit  to  receive  under  his  sheltering 
roof." 

"If  the  kitchen  is  good  enough  for  me,  it  is  good 
enough  for  such  as  him,"  exclaimed  Betsy,  opening  all 
the  windows  energetically,  and  whisking  the  counterpane 
and  sheets  over  the  sill. 

"I  shall  make  it  myself,  Betsy,"  said  Mrs.  Hastings, 
with  heroic  determination,  "I  don't  want  to  hear  any 
more  grumbling." 

"Just  as  you  please,  Miss  Hastings,"  cried  Betsy, 


68  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

leaving  the  room  with  a  resounding  step.     "He's  no 
more  parsecuted  than  I  am,  the  Lord  knows." 

Whatever  were  Mrs.  Hastings's  feelings,  she  expressed, 
no  opposition  to  the  will  of  her  lord  and  master,  whom 
she  looked  up  to  as  the  great  philanthropist  of  the  age, 
as  one  of  those  martyr  spirits  who,  though  they  may 
weave  for  themselves  a  crown  of  thorns  in  this  world, 
will  exchange  it  for  a  diadem  of  glory  in  the  next. 

After  this  unexpected  digression,  caused  by  little  Do- 
ra's whisper,  we  will  return  to  the  supper  table,  or 
rather  to  the  parlour,  for  there  is  no  one  at  the  table 
now  but  Mrs.  Hastings  and  Betsy,  who  are  both  busy 
in  putting  away  the  best  china,  the  cut  glass  preserve 
dishes,  and  silver  urn,  brought  out  for  the  occasion. 

"Now,  that's  a  real  gentleman,"  said  Betsy,  peeping 
into  the  parlour  through  the  crack  of  the  door.  "I'd 
as  lieves  wait  upon  him  as  not.  He's  as  handsome  as  a 
pictur,  and  he  don't  look  a  bit  proud  neither,  only  sort 
of  grand,  as  t'were.     If  I  was  Miss  Euly — la  sus  !" 

"Betsy !"  said  Mrs.  Hastings,  in  a  tone  of  grave  re- 
buke, "you  had  better  attend  to  your  dishes." 

Betsy  flourished  her  napkin,  but  she  would  peep  a 
little  more. 

"La  me!"  she  exclaimed,  "if  they  ha'n't  got  the 
singing  books  out,  and,  there,  they  are  all  sot  round  the 
middle  table.  Did  you  ever?  Well!  Miss  Euly  does 
.sing  like  a  martingale." 

As  there  is  no  use  in  peeping  through  an  aperture 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  69 

■when  we  have  the  freedom,  of  the  house,  we  will  enter 
the  parlour  and  seat  ourselves  in  the  old  maid,  which, 
being  too  heavy  to  be  moved  with  convenience  to  the 
centre  table,  chances  to  be  standing  vacant  in  the  corner. 

Mr.  Hastings  was  proud  of  his  daughter's  singing,  as 
well  he  might  be.  It  was  really  music  to  his  soul,  as 
well  as  his  ear.  He  had  a  fine  voice  himself,  and  so 
had  Reuben.  And  even  little  Dora  had  been  taught  to 
sing  the  praises  of  her  God  and  King,  with  childhood's 
cherub  tones. 

"It  is  our  custom,"  said  Mr.  Hastings,  rubbing  his 
hands  slowly  and  gently,  "it  is  our  custom,  Mr.  More- 
land,  to  have  some  sacred  music  every  Sunday  evening. 
We  have  no  instruments  but  those  which  God  has  given 
us,  and  which  we  try  to  tune  to  His  glory.  My  daugh- 
ter, here,  has  a  tolerable  voice,  my  son  sings  a  pretty 
good  bass,  and  I  myself  can  get  through  a  tune  without 
much  difficulty.  Will  you  join  us,  sir?  You  look  as 
if  you  could  help  us,  if  you  pleased." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Moreland,  taking  a 
seat  at  Eulalia's  side,  and  appropriating  a  singing 
book  for  their  mutual  benefit.  "  If  I  can  do  nothing 
better,  I  can  at  least  turn  the  leaves,  as  I  listen*." 

But  he  could  do  a  great  deal  better,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  his  voice  was  heard  mingling  with  the  sweet 
hosannas  of  Eulalia,  while  bending  over  the  same  book, 
so  near,  that  her  warm,  pure  breath  floated  against  his 
glowing  cheek.     He  was  carried  back  to  the  days  of 


70  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

his  childhood,  when  his  mother  taught  him  the  songs  of 
Zion,  while  cradled  in  her  arms  or  pillowed  on  her  knee. 
The  recollection  softened  and  moved  him  to  such  a  de- 
gree that  his  voice  choked  and  then  ceased.  Eulalia 
involuntarily  turned  and  looked  in  his  face,  and,  sur- 
prised at  the  emotion  she  saw  depicted  there,  her  own 
voice  faltered.  There  wag  something  so  exquisitely  soft 
and  sympathetic  in  the  expression  of  her  dark  hazel 
eyes,  so  innocent,  yet  so  full  of  intelligence,  that  More- 
land  felt  bewildered  by  the  glance. 

"Oh!"  thought  he,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  he  re- 
frained from  expressing  his  thoughts  aloud,  "  I  am 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  beauty  and  sweetness  unknown 
before.  All  that  is  pathetic  and  holy  in  the  past  rises 
up  to  hallow  and  subdue  the  intoxication  of  the  present 
moment.  Strange,  that  I,  born  amid  the  sunny  groves 
of  the  South,  should  come  to  the  cold  clime  of  New 
England  to  find  an  influence  as  warm,  as  powerful  and 
instantaneous  as  is  ever  felt  under  the  glowing  skies  of 
the  tropics." 

"  We  do  not  seem  to  make  out  quite  as  well  with  that 
tune  as  the  others,"  said  Mr.  Hastings,  thinking  More- 
land  was  probably  out  of  practice  and  could  not  help 
stumbling  over  some  difficult  notes ;  "  perhaps  we  had 
better  try  another ;  or  perhaps  we  had  better  stop  alto- 
gether.    This  must  be  dull  amusement  to  you,  sir." 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  feelings  have  only  been  too 
deeply  interested,"  replied  Moreland,  ashamed  of  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.  71 

interruption  he  had  caused.  "  This  sweet  family  music, 
these  words  of  adoration  and  praise,  heard  under  the 
stranger's  roof,  reminded  me  so  vividly  of  my  own  early 
home,  that  my  heart  is  softened  to  almost  boyish  weak- 
ness.    I  pray  you  to  continue." 

After  sing-ino-  some  charmino;  anthems,  in  which  Mrs. 
Hastings,  whose  voice  was  only  less  sweet  than  Eulalia's, 
also  joined,  the  books  were  closed,  the  chairs  moved 
back,  and  Moreland  reluctantly  rose  to  depart. 

"  No  hurry,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hastings  ;  "  happy  to  have 
you  sit  longer.  Happy  to  have  you  call  again.  How 
long  do  you  think  of  remaining  in  our  village  ?" 

"  I  did  think  of  leaving  to-morrow,"  replied  his  guest ; 
"but,"  involuntarily  looking  at  Eulalia,  "I  may  pro- 
bably remain  a  few  days  longer." 

"  You  stop  at  Mr.  Grimby's  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  shall  call  and  have  a  few  hours'  chat  with 
you.  I  like  you,  sir — excuse  my  frankness — and  I  want 
to  do  you  good.  I  think  I  can.  I  am  a  man  who  have 
read  and  studied  and  reflected  a  great  deal,  and  have 
arrived,  I  flatter  myself,  at  very  just  views  of  men  and 
tilings.  In  the  mean  time," — here  he  opened  a  secre- 
tary, whose  glass  doors  were  lined  with  green  silk,  and 
took  out  a  bundle  of  papers, — "  allow  me  to  present  you 
with  these  papers.  Give  them,  if  you  please,  a  careful 
perusal,  and  if  you  are  a  candid  man,  as  I  trust  you 
are,  you  cannot  fail  of  being  a  convert  to  my  opinions. 


r2  THE   PLANTERS   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

Yes,  sir,"  continued  he,  warming  with  his  subject,  "you 
will  find  my  arguments  unanswerable.  They  are  founded 
on  truth.  '  The  eternal  days  of  God  are  hers,'  and  it  is 
in  vain  to  contend  against  her  omnipotent  power." 

Moreland  reddened ;  he  saw  the  package  consisted  of 
numbers  of  the  "Emancipator,"  edited  by  Mr.  Hastings 
himself.  The  gauntlet  was  now  thrown  down;  he* must 
take  it  up  and  enter  the  lists  of  controversy,  coute  qui 
coute. 

"I  am  an  earnest  seeker  of  truth,  myself,"  replied 
he,  "  and,  as  you  say,  I  trust  a  candid  one.  Should 
you  prove  to  me  that  my  preconceived  opinions  are 
erroneous,  I  will  most  ingenuously  acknowledge  it.  But 
I,  too,  have  read  and  studied  and  reflected,  and  if  I 
have  arrived  at  different  conclusions,  I  shall  call  upon 
you  to  examine  mine,  with  equal  frankness  and  impar- 
tiality." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  cried  the  philanthropist; — 
"  there's  not  a  more  impartial  man  in  the  world  than 
myself,  or  one  more  open  to  conviction.  But  once  con- 
vinced I  am  right,  you  might  as  well  attempt  to  move 
the  everlasting  hills  from  their  base,  as  shake  the 
groundwork  of  my  firm  and  rooted  opinions.  I  will  call 
and  see  you  to-morrow." 

And  thus,  after  exchanging  the  usual  courtesies  of 
the  parting  moment,  terminated  Moreland's  first  visit  to 
the  home  of  Eulalia  Hastings. 


CHAPTER  III. 

When  Moreland  returned  to  the  inn,  not  seeing  Albert, 
and  feeling  very  thirsty,  he  walked  through  the  passage 
leading  to  the  back  part  of  the  house  to  a  bench  where  a 
bucket  of  water  was  usually  standing.  In  so  doing,  he 
had  to  pass  the  kitchen,  which,  unlike  those  of  the  South, 
belonged  to  the  main  suite  of  apartments,  and  was  only 
separated  from  the  dining-room  by  an  apartment  which 
served  as  a  store-room  or  pantry.  Though  it  was  a 
warm  summer  evening,  the  blaze  roaring  in  the  large 
chimney  illuminated  the  whole  passage  through  the  open 
door.  A  woman  was  seated  on  the  hearth  stirring  some- 
thing in  a  large  oven  with  a  long  stick,  and,  as  she  stirred, 
the  aromatic  smoke,  which  rose  from  the  iron  censer,  was 
impregnated  with  the  rich  odour  of  burning  coffee.  Al- 
bert was  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire-place, 
with  a  very  nonchalant  air,  watching  the  operation  and 
inhaling  the  aroma  in  his  expanded  nostrils.  The  per- 
spiration was  dripping  from  the  poor  woman's  brow? 
which  she  kept  wiping  with  one  hand,  while  she  plied 
with  the  other  her  oaken  wand.     Moreland  recognised 

(73) 


74  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  landlady,  Mrs.  Grimby,  whom  he  had  seen  bustling 
about  the  house,  though  she  had  never  made  her  ap- 
pearance at  table.  His  chivalrous  regard  for  woman 
was  quite  pained  at  seeing  her  thus  unpleasantly  and 
laboriously  occupied,  while  his  boy  stood  idly  gazing  by* ; 
and,  stepping  across  the  threshold,  he  accosted  the  land- 
lady, much  to  her  surprise  and  embarrassment.  She 
had  no  cause  for  shame,  for  nothing  could  be  more  neat 
or  well  arranged  than  the  kitchen  furniture ;  and  the 
white  floor,  unstained  by  grease,  bore  evidence  of  a 
thorough  Saturday's  scouring.  Rows  of  shining  tin 
utensils,  bright  and  glittering  as  burnished  silver, 
adorned  the  walls  on  one  side,  shelves  of  white  crockery 
the  other.  It  was  altogether  an  attractive,  rejoicing- 
looking  room ;  and  had  it  been  a  December  instead  of 
a  June  evening,  and  the  atmosphere  sparkling  with 
frost  instead  of  silvering  in  a  summer  mist,  Moreland 
could  have  made  himself  very  comfortable  in  the  midst 
of  that  culinary  finery. 

"Why  don't  you  make  my  boy  assist  you,  madam?" 
said  he ;  "  he  has  nothing  else  to  do,  and  can  stand  the 
heat  much  better  than  yourself." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  she  replied,  dusting  a  chair,  and 
placing  it  near  the  door  while  she  was  speaking ;  "  I 
couldn't  think  of  setting  him  to  work,  I'm  sure.  This 
is  nothing  but  play,  to  what  I've  been  doing  these 
several  days, —  my  best  help  is  gone  home,  Nancy 
Brown,   she   did   the  work   of  two   common   girls ;    but 


TIIB   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  75 

she  got  sick,  and  I  do  think  she's  done  her  last  job  in 
this  world.  I  hain't  been  able  to  get  any  one  in  her 
place  yet,  and  somebody's  got  to  do  the  work ;  it's,  as 
Mr.  Grimby  says,  them  that  keeps  tavern  are  as  bad  off 
is  the  slaves  are,  and  I  know  it's  true ;  but  folks  are 
bliged  to  live." 

"Albert,  stir  that  coffee,"  said  his  master;  "I  am 
astonished  you  have  not  offered  to  do  it  yourself." 

The  mulatto  sprang  forward,  seized  the  stick,  and, 
giving  it  first  a  graceful  flourish  round  his  head,  began 
to  stir,  with  vigorous  hand,  the  brown  and  smoking 
kernels. 

"Why,  Mars.  Russell,"  said  he,  with  an  apologetic 
smile,  "  you  must  'xcuse  me  this  time ;  I  have  been 
conversing  with  the  lady,  and  forgot  all  about  offering 
to  help  her ;  I'm  willing,  though." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Grimby,  "he  seems  mighty  kind. 
It  is  warm  work,"  she  added,  drawing  back  from  the 
gloAving  hearth,  and  exposing  her  fervid  face  to  the 
evening  breeze  that  came  in  through  an  open  casement. 

"I  beg  you  will  take  the  liberty  to  call  upon  my  boy 
whenever  you  wish  his  assistance,"  said  Moreland,  pitying 
the  poor  overtasked  woman ;  "  he  can  do  almost  anything ; 
you  will  find  he  has  a  light  foot  and  an  active  hand." 

"  Who's  going  to  wait  on  you,  Mars.  Russell  ?"  asked 
the  mulatto,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
"Who's  going  to  brush  your. clothes,  black  your  boots, 
and  do  a  heap  of  things  beside  ?" 


76  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"  You  can  do  all  that  I  require,  and  have  a  great  deal 
of  time  left,  Albert,"  replied  his  master.  "I  expect 
you  will  conform  to  my  wishes,  and  do  credit  to  your 
Southern  training.  Do  you  find  it  difficult  to  supply 
yourselves  with  servants,  madam?"  said  he,  addressing 
the  landlady,  not  from  mere  curiosity,  but  a  desire  to 
inform  himself  of  the  true  condition  of  the  labouring 
class. 

"We  never  think  of  calling  them  servants,"  replied 
Mrs.  Grimby ;  "  they  won't  allow  us  to  do  that.  They 
wouldn't  stay  with  us  if  we  did.  We  speak  of  them  as 
help,  hired  help,  but  never  as  servants.  Yes,  it  is  some- 
times next  to  impossible  to  get  anybody  for  love  or 
money.  All  the  girls  are  for  going  to  the  factories, 
where  they  have  higher  wages  and  lighter  work.  I 
don't  think  we  can  blame  them  much,  though  for  my 
part,  I'd  rather,  a  great  deal,  do  housework,  than  stand 
all  day  long  behind  the  wheels  and  looms,  with  the  cot- 
ton fuz  choking  the  lungs  and  stopping  up  the  nostrils. 
They  think  it  more  genteel ;  but  I  don't  see  any  differ- 
ence, for  my  part.  I  never  did  think  there  was  any 
disgrace  in  work ;  if  I  did,  I  should  lead  a  mighty  mean 
life  of  it. 

"  You  took  tea  at  Squire  Hastings',  didn't  you  ?"  said 
she,  first  making  the  assertion,  and  then  asking  the 
question. 

"Yes,"  replied  Moreland,  with  a  sudden  bounding  of 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  77 

the  heart,  which  it  was  well  the  landlady  could  not  see. 
"Are  you  acquainted  with  the  family?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  am.  There's  not  many  families  in  the 
village  that  I  don't  know.  I  used  to  visit  Mrs.  Hast- 
ings, but  since  Mr.  Grimby  took  the  tavern  I've  no  time 
to  go  nowhere.  Squire  Hastings  is  the  knowingest  gen- 
tleman anywhere  about,  and  Miss  Eulaly  is  the  nicest 
girl  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  I  don't  suppose  there's  a 
girl  in  the  county  that's  had  as  many  good  offers  as  she 
has ;  but  she  don't  seem  to  take  to  anybody.  I  don't 
blame  her  for  setting  store  by  herself,  for  beauty  is  her 
least  merit." 

Moreland  thought  the  landlady  a  very  discerning  as 
well  as  industrious  woman,  and  felt  more  than  ever  dis- 
posed to  give  her  the  assistance  of  his  leisurely  servant. 
He  also  thought  her  a  woman  of  delicacy ;  for  in  the 
course  of  their  conversation  she  had  neither  directly  nor 
indirectly  attacked  those  habits  and  customs,  so  at  vari- 
ance with  her  own.  He  would  willingly  have  remained 
longer,  listening  to  the  praises  of  Eulalia,  but  he  did 
not  care  about  Mr.  Grimby's  coming  into  the  kitchen 
and  finding  him  so  familiarly  established  there ;  so  leav- 
ing Albert  at  his  post  of  honour,  he  retired  to  his  own 
chamber,  and  began  to  peruse  the  documents  which  Mr  , 
Hastings  had  placed  in  his  hand. 

At  first  he  glanced  over  them  carelessly,  as  if  fulfilling 
an  irksome  task  imposed  upon  him ;  then  his  attention 
became  fixed ;  sometimes  a  disdainful  smile  curled  his 
140 


78  the  planter's  northern  bril-e. 

lip,  then  a  hot  flush  rose  to  his  temples,  or  an  indignant 
frown  contracted  his  brow.  The  articles  were  well 
written,  and  calculated  to  give  an  impression  of  extreme 
candour  and  philanthropy.  There  was  much  truth  in 
them,  but  the  true  was  so  ingeniously  woven  with  what 
was  false,  none  but  the  most  experienced  eye  could 
detect  the  tinselry  from  the  gold.  There  were  facts,  too, 
but  so  distorted,  so  wrenched  from  their  connexion  with 
other  extenuating  facts,  that  they  presented  a  mangled 
and  bleeding  mass  of  fragments,  instead  of  a  solid  body 
of  truth. 

"Is  it  possible,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  such  things  can 
be  published  and  circulated  and  read  by  a  rational  and 
intelligent  community  as  truth,  as  Christian  truth,  pub- 
lished, too,  under  the  broad  banner  of  philanthropy, 
nay,  more,  under  the  banner  of  the  cross  of  Christ  ? 
Were  they  speaking  of  the  dark  ages  of  the  world,  over 
whose  sanguinary  archives  the  dim  and  mouldering  veil 
of  antiquity  is  floating,  we  might  not  wonder ;  but  that 
such  misrepresentations  should  be  made  of  our  own  times, 
of  our  own  country,  by  those  who  might  inform  them- 
selves of  the  reality,  is  indeed  incredible.  Why,  if  I 
believed  one-fourth  part  of  what  I  see  stated  here,  I 
would  forsake  my  native  regions,  the  grave  of  my  mother, 
the  home  of  my  youth,  the  friends  of  my  manhood,  pre  • 
perty,  reputation,  everything,  making  my  whole  life  an 
expiatory  sacrifice  for  the  involuntary  sins  of  my  bygone 
years.    I  should  think  every  gale  wafted  from  our  sweet 


THE  PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  79 

jessamine  bowers  was  laden  with  pestilential  exhalations, 
and  every  sunbeam  darting  from  our  lovely  skies  would 
turn  into  a  burning  arrow,  fastening  into  the  soul." 

lie  rose,  greatly  excited,  and  walked  to  the  window 
that  looked  out  upon  the  village  church.  He  drew  back 
the  curtain  and  gazed  on  the  tranquil  beauty  of  the  night 
scene.  He  could  see  the  outline  of  the  lofty  dome, 
crowned  with  the  jewelry  of  heaven,  and  a  little  farther, 
he  distinguished  a  lighted  window,  glimmering  through 
the  foliage,  which  he  believed  belonged  to  the  chamber 
of  Eulalia.  How  peaceful  it  looked,  that  solitary  light, 
streaming  through  the  dewy  shades  and  mingling  with 
the  stellar  splendours  of  the  heavens !  Gradually  he 
raised  his  thoughts  above  that  solitary  light,  above  those 
stellar  glories,  above  the  deep,  ethereal  blue  of  the  ze- 
nith, till,  ascending  higher  and  higher,  they  reached  the 
great  Source  of  all.  For  a  few  moments  his  soul  seemed' 
to  bask  in  the  blaze  of  eternal  truth.  The  passions  of 
men,  their  vain  strife,  their  petty  controversies  and  war- 
ring interests,  dwindled  down  into  little  specks,  scarcely 
distinguishable  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  Godhead.  "  He 
who  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh,"  thought  More- 
land,  during  his  brief  apocalypse.  "  He  shall  laugh  at 
the  pitiful  devices  of  man,  and  sweep  away  every  refuge 
of  lies.  In  the  great  golden  scales  of  immutable  justice 
our  motives  will  be  weighed,  and  when  they  are  found 
wanting,  as  they  too  oft  will  be,  frail  and  fallible  beings 
as  we  are,  the  angel  of  mercy  will  plead  in  our  behalf. 


80         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

Oh,  glorious  thought !  that  we  are  to  be  judged  here- 
after by  God,  not  man.'" 

With  this  sublime  reliance  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed 
that  he  was  wandering  in  his  own  native  bowers,  by  the 
side  of  Eulalia  Hastings. 

At  a  rather  late  hour  of  the  next  afternoon,  Mr. 
Hastings  called  and  was  received  by  Moreland,  with  due 
courtesy  and  cordiality.  He  invited  him  into  the  par- 
lour, but  Mr.  Hastings  suggested  a  seat  in  the  passage, 
where  a  fine  current  of  air  was  flowing.  Moreland  would 
have  preferred  a  less  public  place,  for  the  passage  of  a 
country  inn  is  a  thoroughfare  for  loungers  and  smokers 
and  drinkers,  who  feel  that  they  have  as  good  a  right  to  be 
there  as  the  greatest  nabob  in  the  land.  But  Mr.  Hast- 
ings was  so  accustomed  to  speak  in  public  and  to  feed 
on  public  applause,  that  he  did  not  like  to  confine  to 
the  individual  ear,  sentiments  which  would  undoubtedly 
enlighten  and  regenerate  mankind.  He  required  the 
excitement  of  numbers  to  elicit  the  latent  enthusiasm 
of  his  intellect.  His  arguments,  like  the  claws  of  the 
lion,  were  embedded  in  a  soft  covering,  and  it  was  only 
when  he  came  in  collision  with  others  that  their  strong 
gripe  was  felt  and  their  clenching  power  acknowledged. 

"Well,  sir!"  said  he,  applying  the  usual  friction  to 
his  ready  matches,  "I  hope  you  are  pleased  with  the 
papers  I  gave  you  for  perusal?" 

"  Pleased !"  repeated  Moreland,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
desire  to  keep  it  back,  a  haughty  flush  swept  over  his 


TIIE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  81 

brow;  "you  did  not  expect  that  I  should  be  pleased 
with  what,  if  true,  would  make  me  one  of  the  veriest 
scoundrels  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  Softly,  softly,  sir.  We  make  no  individual  remarks, 
— conscience  may  apply  them,  but  they  are  of  general 
signification.  The  man  who  is  not  willing  to  merge  all 
personal  feelings  in  the  good  of  the  human  race,  is 
unworthy  the  name  of  a  philanthropist  or  a  Christian. 
We  are  the  champions  of  truth,  justice,  and  humanity, 
and  wage  eternal  war  with  falsehood,  oppression,  and 
cruelty.  Like  the  ancient  warriors,  who  went  forth  in 
their  war-chariots,  from  which  a  thousand  scythes  were 
gleaming,  ready  to  mow  down  all  opposing  ranks, — we 
suffer  the  wheels  of  justice  to  roll  down,  though  the 
votaries  of  error  be  crushed  in  their  majestic  evolutions." 

"You  have  made  a  very  happy  comparison,  sir," 
answered  Moreland,  from  whose  brow  the  angry  flush 
had  entirely  faded ;  "  your  blows  are  as  indiscriminate 
and  aimless  as  the  bristling  weapons  to  which  you 
allude.  As  you  seem  to  have  so  much  respect  for 
ancient  authorities,  suppose  we  imitate  the  famous 
example  of  the  Roman  and  Alban  brothers,  vdio  de- 
cided, by  their  threefold  combat,  the  destinies  of  their 
countries.  I  am  willing  to  stand  forth  as  the  champion 
of  mine,  for  you  compel  me  to  draw  a  dividing  line 
between  the  North  and  the  South,  thus  anticipating 
that  division  of  interests  which  your  uncalculating  zeal 
will  surely  bring  about." 


82  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

By  tins  time,  the  bar-room,  which  was  nearly  opposite 
them,  was  filling  up  with  eager  listeners,  whose  ears  were 
open  and  distended,  but  from  whose  mouths  the  fumes 
of  tobacco  were  steaming,  till  the  hall  was  clouded  with 
this  incense  of  the  tavern.  Moreland  was  glad  to  see 
his  friend,  the  bridge  architect,  making  his  way  through 
the  crowd  and  taking  a  quiet  seat  by  the  door. 

"  Well,  let  us  begin  the  combat  by  one  plain,  positive 
question?"  said  Mr.  Hastings,  his  keen  black  eyes 
sparkling  like  ignited  coals.     "  Do  you  justify  slavery  ?" 

"Were  you  to  ask  me  if  I  justified  the  slave  trade, 
— that  traffic  forced  upon  us,  by  that  very  British 
government  which  now  taunts  and  upbraids  us  with  such 
bitterness  and  rancour  for  the  institution  whose  corner- 
stone itself  has  laid, — I  would  answer  JVo  !  but  if  you 
mean  the  involuntary  slavery  which  surrounds  me  and 
my  brethren  of  the  South,  I  reply,  I  can  justify  it ;  we 
had  no  more  to  do  with  its  existence  than  our  own.  We 
are  not  responsible  for  it,  though  we  are  for  the  duties 
it  involves,  the  heaviest  perhaps  ever  imposed  upon 
man." 

"  Do  you  assert  that  you  are  not  responsible  for  its 
continuance  ;  that  you  have  not  the  power  to  break  the 
chains  another's  hand  has  forged ;  to  restore  the  free- 
dom which  was  as  much  the  birthright  of  their  ancestors 
as  your  own?" 

"We  have  the poiver  to  do  many  things  which  reason 
and  right  forbid.     We  have  the  power  to  cast  thousands 


TEE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  83 

of  helpless,  ignorant,  reckless  beings  on  their  own 
resources,  or  to  commit  them  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
those  who,  while  they  rave  of  their  injuries,  hold  out  no 
hand  to  redress  them ;  but  we  believe  it  our  duty  to  take 
care  of  them,  to  make  the  life  of  servitude,  which  seem 
their  present  destiny,  as  much  as  possible  a  life  of  com- 
fort and  enjoyment ;  and,  while  we  reap  the  benefit  of 
their  labour  and  the  fruit  of  their  toil  in  their  day  of 
vigour,  to  nurse  them  in  sickness,  provide  for  them  in 
old  age,  and  save  them  from  the  horrors  and  miseries  of 
want." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  many  masters  believe  this 
their  duty,"  interrupted  Mr.  Hastings;  "or,  believing 
it,  fulfil  the  obligations  you  have  described.  I  should 
like  to  have  you  explain  the  tales  of  cruelty  and  suffer- 
ing, the  cries  of  anguish  that  have  rent  the  very  hea- 
vens, and  moved  the  spirit  of  men  to  a  resistance  that 
can  never  again  be  subdued  to  passiveness." 

"  That  there  are  hard  and  cruel  masters,"  replied 
Moreland ;  "that  there  is  in  consequence  much  suffering 
and  wrong,  I  grieve  to  acknowledge ;  for  wherever  human 
nature  exists,  man  has  abused  his  privileges,  and  the  cry 
of  human  suffering  pierces  the  ear  of  the  Almighty. 
But  no  sufferings  which  they  can  possibly  endure,  n 
degradation  to  which  they  are  ever  forced  in  their  pre- 
sent condition,  can  compare  to  the  misery,  the  degra- 
dation and  hopelessness  of  their  lot,  in  their  native 
Africa,  where  they  are  doomed  to  a  slavery  more  galling 


84  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

than  imagination  can  conceive,  and  steeped  in  a  super- 
stition so  dark  and  loathsome  that  the  soul  shudders  at 
the  contemplation.  Have  you  never  read  of  the  heca- 
tombs of  human  victims  slaughtered  at  the  grave  of  a 
barbarian  chief,  or  the  shrieks  and  groans  of  wives,  sac- 
rificed with  the  most  terrific  rites,  to  the  manes  of  their 
husbands?  I  will  not  speak  of  the  horrors  of  canni- 
balism. There  is  no  need  of  calling  up  such  revolting 
images.  I  only  wished  to  present  before  you  a  faint 
picture  of  the  native  African,  and  contrast  it  with  even 
the  most  degraded  of  our  Southern  slaves." 

"  Sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hastings,  "pardon  me  for  say- 
ing it — you  are  begging  the  question.  You  could  give 
no  better  proof  of  the  weakness  of  your  cause,  than  the 
manner  in  which  you  elude  our  arguments.  I  do  not 
pretend  to  speculate  upon  their  condition  in  their  native 
country.  We  know  but  very  little  about  it,  and  I  doubt 
not  the  accounts  we  hear  are  highly  coloured  and  mon- 
strously exaggerated.  I  never  presume  to  arraign  the 
Almighty  for  any  of  his  arrangements  and  dispensations. 
He  placed  the  negro  in  Africa,  and  there  he  ought  to 
remain,  in  spite  of  the  avarice  and  cupidity  of  his  white 
brethren." 

"Indeed!"  replied  Moreland,  "I  am  astonished  that 
you  do  not  question  the  justice  and  mercy  of  God,  hi 
creating  this  subservient  and  benighted  race,  with  linea- 
ments so  devoid  of  beauty  and  grace,  and  swathing  them 
in  a  skin,  whose  hue  is  the  blackness  of  darkness,  mak- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  85 

ing  a  boundary  line  between  us,  as  distinct,  yea,  more 
distinct  than  that  which  severs  the  noonday  from  mid- 
night. The  mulatto,  in  whose  veins  the  blood  of  the 
white  man  is  flowing  and  brightening  their  dusky  tide, 
partakes  of  the  beauty  and  intelligence  of  our  race, — but 
take  the  native  African,  examine  his  lineaments,  fea- 
tures, and  peculiar  characteristics,  and  say  if  he  came 
from  the  hands  of  God  in  a  state  of  equality  with  our- 
selves, endowed  with  equal  physical  and  intellectual 
powers,  intended  for  our  bosom  companions  and  familiar 
friends." 

"If  you  are  about  to  hide  yourself  in  the  counsels  of 
the  Almighty,"  cried  Mr.  Hastings,  with  increasing  ex- 
citement of  manner,  "I  give  up  the  discussion.  I  see 
you  close  up  every  avenue  to  conviction,  and  indulge  in 
a  sophistry  I  consider  unworthy  of  an  honest,  upright 
mind.  Sir,  we  might  talk  in  this  way  for  six  thousand 
years  without  changing  my  immutable  conviction,  that, 
as  long  as  you  allow  the  existence  of  slavery,  you  are 
living  in  sin  and  iniquity,  that  you  are  violating  the 
laws  of  God  and  man,  incurring  the  vengeance  of  hea- 
ven, and  the  retributions  of  eternity.  I  use  strong  lan- 
guage, sir,  for  the  occasion  justifies  it.  I  am  a  philan- 
thropist, sir,  a  champion  of  truth,  and  I  have  sworn  to 
defend  it  at  any  sacrifice,  yea,  that  of  life  itself,  if  the 
offering  be  required." 

"But  if  you  could  be  convinced,"  said  Moreland,  be- 
coming more  calm  and  energetic  as  his  opponent  grew 


86  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

fiery  and  vehement,  "that,  by  your  premature  efforts, 
and  overheated  zeal,  you  increase  the  evils,  which  time 
alone  can  remedy ;  that  you  only  rivet  more  closely  the 
bonds  you  rashly  attempt  to  wrench  asunder  by  the 
hand  of  violence  ;  that,  instead  of  being  the  friends,  you 
are  in  reality  the  worst  enemies  of  the  bondman  whoso 
cause  you  espouse  ;  that,  by  adopting  a  kinder,  more 
rational  course,  you  would  find  in  us  co-labourers  and 
brethren,  instead  of  antagonists ;  if  you  could  be  con- 
vinced of  all  this,  sir,  would  you  not  lay  down  your 
weapons,  and  reflect  on  the  consequences  that  may  flow 
from  your  present  course  of  action  ?" 

"  I  never  can  be  convinced,  sir ;  it  is  utterly  impossible. 
I  know  that  I  am  right,  and  that  you  are  wrong.  This 
conviction  is  one  of  those  first,  great  truths,  which  are 
learned  by  intuition,  not  by  the  slow  process  of  reason- 
ing. God  is  both  the  teacher  and  the  judge.  You  are 
wasting  breath,  sir.  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you  of  it, 
but  you  are  wasting  much  precious  breath  on  me." 

"  I  have  not  sought  this  discussion,"  replied  the  South- 
erner, "  and  I  have  no  wish  to  prolong  it,  at  the  risk  of 
kindling  feelings  of  personal  animosity.  I  came  among 
you,  a  peaceful  stranger,  pressing  upon  you  no  claims, 
assuming  no  privileges,  but  what  you  all  freely  share. 
It  is  true  I  have  met  with  much  liberality  and  expansion 
of  feeling,  much  hospitality  and  generous  appreciation, 
especially  among  the  princely-spirited  Bostonians,  where 
X  found  many  a  brother  in  heart   and  soul.     I   have 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  87 

become  acquainted,  too,  with  noble,  liberal,  and  candid 
men  wherever  I  have  travelled  in  your  Northern  regions  ; 
but  I  have  also  met  with  those  whose  vocation  it  seemed 
to  trample  on  our  rights,  to  tread  upon  them  as  they 
would  grapes  in  the  winepress,  though  blood  instead  of 
purple  juice  gushed  up  beneath  their  feet.  It  has  been 
mine  to  oppose  the  shield  of  defence  to  the  sword  of 
aggression,  though  I  would  gladly  lay  aside  all  bellige- 
rent weapons,  and  cultivate  that  friendly  communion, 
which  no  sectional  interest  should  disturb  or  destroy." 

Moreland  had  an  exceedingly  clear,  sweet,  and  finely 
modulated  voice.  He  never  lost  the  command  of  it  by 
passion  or  excitement,  it  never  became  indistinct  through 
diffidence  or  confusion  of  ideas ;  but,  swelling  like  a  well- 
tuned  melodious  instrument,  charmed  the  ear,  while  it 
riveted  the  attention.  In  this  respect  he  had  a  great 
advantage  over  Mr.  Hastings,  whose  voice  often  shivered 
and  broke,  when  pitched  on  too  high  a  key,  or  became 
thick  and  incoherent  in  the  vehemence  of  argument. 
The  loungers  in  the  bar-room,  who  had  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  the  eloquence  of  the  latter,  listened  with  a 
keener,  deeper  interest,  to  the  thrilling  accents  of  the 
former.  The  tones,  the  manner,  the  sentiments  -were 
new.  They  began  to  think  there  could  be  two  sides  to 
a  question ;  that  there  was  a  possibility,  though  Squire 
Hastings  was  certainly  a  remarkably  great  man,  one  of 
the  greatest  men  that  ever  lived,  that  other  men  had 
some  sense  too.     The  stranger  had  a  good  deal  of  spunk 


88  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

■ — they  liked  to  see  it.  They  liked  a  man  who  knew 
how  to  stand  up  for  himself,  even  if  he  wasn't  on  the 
right  side  of  the  argument.  They  were  for  giving  him 
fair  play,  sea-room  and  land-room,  and  waited,  with 
segars  suspended  in  the  air,  and  necks  stretched  eagerly 
forward,  for  the  continuation  of  the  scene ;  but  Mr. 
Hastings,  fearful  of  the  fascinating  influence  of  his 
opponent  on  the  minds  he  considered  subservient  to  his 
own,  closed  the  discussion  by  a  sudden  and  unexpected 
stroke  of  policy.  Advancing  with  great  frankness  of 
manner  towards  Moreland,  he  held  out  his  hand, 
saying, 

"  We  had  better  renew  our  conversation  some  future 
hour.  We  are  both  getting  a  little  too  warm  for  the 
season.  I  hope,  however,  you  will  not  believe  me  actu- 
ated by  personal  hostility.  On  the  contrary,  as  I  said 
before,  I  like  you  very  much  as  a  man.  Come  and  see 
me  again  while  you  stay,  and  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall 
understand  each  other  better.  I  do  not  want  you  to  go 
away  with  the  impression  that  Northern  hospitality  and 
liberality  are  confined  to  the  walls  of  our  metropolis." 

Moreland  did  not  forget  that  it  was  the  father  of  Eu- 
lalia  that  thus  addressed  him,  and  he  suffered  his  hand 
to  close  over  the  hand  of  the  philanthropist,  and  pro- 
mised to  renew  the  social  pleasures  of  the  preceding 
evening. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Grimby,  after  Mr.  Hastings  had 
retired   "  I  never  saw  the  squire  in  such  a  tight  fix  be- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  89 

fore.  He's  got  somebody  now  that  knows  how  to  talk 
about  as  well  as  he  does,  and  I'm  glad  to  see  him  pushed 
a  little.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  deserved  the  most 
credit,  for  it  is  harder  to  be  smart  on  the  wrong  side 
than  the  right.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !" 

The  laugh  was  echoed  in  the  bar-room,  for  the  land- 
lord had  the  reputation  of  being  a  wit,  and  all  his  say- 
ings received  their  full  amount  of  credit.  Moreland  was 
not  sorry  to  escape  from  so  uncongenial  an  atmosphere  ; 
and  joining  his  friend,  the  architect,  he  recovered,  in  a 
long  walk  through  the  skirts  of  the  village,  the  serenity 
of  his  temper  and  the  equilibrium  of  his  mind.  There 
was  something  in  the  clear  good  sense  and  calm  ration- 
ality of  Mr.  Brooks,  inexpressibly  soothing  to  his 
chafed  and  wounded  spirit.  It  was  pleasant  to  meet 
with  one  who  had  broad  and  comprehensive  views  of 
men  and  things,  views  which  were  not  confined  to  the 
narrow  horizon  of  the  present,  but  extended  into  the 
boundlessness  of  the  future. 

That  night,  as  he  stood  near  the  window  in  deep  me- 
ditation, deliberately  drawing  on  his  gloves,  Albert  came 
and  stood  before  him,  with  a  very  dissatisfied  counte- 
nance. 

"Mars.  Russell,"  said  he,  putting  his  left  hand  in  his 
bosom  and  giving  a  kind  of  flourish  with  his  right, 
"please,  how  long  you  going  to  stay  here,  in  this  little, 
mean,  no-account  place?" 

Moreland  started.     It  was  the  very  question  he  was 


90  THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

asking  himself,  though  put  in  a  very  different  manner, 
and  he  had  no  answer  ready  for  either  interrogator. 

"  Why,  are  you  tired,  Albert  ?" 

"Yes,  master,  that  I  am.  And  if  I've  got  to  work 
for  Mistress  Grimby  all  this  time,  I  don't  care  how  soon 
we  start.  She's  kept  me  on  the  go  ever  since  the  day 
broke,  a  scrubbing  and  scouring  on  all  fours,  till  I  can 
hardly  stand  up  straight.  She  took  you  at  your  word, 
Mars.  Russell,  I  can  tell  you.  She's  had  a  real  day's 
work  out  of  my  bones." 

Albert  sucked  in  his  breath,  and,  stooping  down, 
rubbed  his  knees,  with  a  significant  gesture.  "Then, 
I'm  so  dirty,  master.  I'm  really  ashamed  to  look  you 
in  the  eye.  I'm  willing  to  do  anything  for  you,  Mars. 
Hussell,  but  I  have  no  opinion  of  making  myself  a  dog, 
for  folks  that  ain't  no  quality  after  all." 

Moreland  could  not  help  thinking  that  his  politeness 
had  been  understood  in  its  broadest  sense,  and  he  re- 
gretted the  benevolent  impulse  which  had  urged  him  to 
make  the  offer.  He  knew  he  should  give  more  offence 
by  withdrawing  his  services,  than  he  had  won  gratitude 
by  their  spontaneous  offer.  He  sympathized,  too,  with 
Albert's  wounded  aristocracy,  which  had  never  bled  so 
copiously  before. 

"My  poor  boy,"  said  he,  smiling  at  Albert's  half- 
comic,  half-rueful  look,  "  you  have  not  been  used  to  such 
hard  usarre,  I  must  acknowledge.  It  is  well  to  have  a 
taste  of  what  the  Northern  bondwomen  have  to  endure, 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  91 

bo  that  you  may  be  more  contented  with  your  own  lot. 
I  suppose  the  good  lady  herself  worked  as  hard  as  your- 
self." 

"Yes,  master,  there's  no  denying  that,  and  she  didn't 
grumble  neither,  not  much.  I  do  have  a  feeling  for 
women,  and  am  willing  to  do  as  much  for  them  as  any- 
body else — but  there's  bounds,  Mars.  Russell." 

"  I  will  see  about  it,  Albert.  You  need  not  do  any- 
thing more  to-night;  I  shall  not  be  abroad  late." 

He  was  about  to  close  the  door,  when  Albert's  "Mars. 
Russell,"  in  an  unusually  deprecating  tone,  arrested  his 
steps. 

"Please,  master,  how  long  you  going  to  stay?" 

"I  cannot  tell,  Albert, — are  you  getting  home-sick?" 

"  Yes,  that  I  am,  master ;  I'm  most  pined  away  to  a 
skeleton  aready.  They  give  me  a  plenty  to  eat,  but  not 
of  the  right  sort.  I  hain't  set  eyes  on  a  mouthful  of. 
bacon  and  greens  since  I  ben  here.  I've  got  nobody  to 
sing  and  dance  with ;  and  I've  most  forgot  how  to  laugh. 
Hi,  Mars.  Russell,  if  I  ever  get  back  home  again,  the 
way  I'll  jump  Georgia  motions  will  be  a  caution." 

"  We  will  be  at  home  soon,"  cried  Moreland,  laughing, 
while  a  vision  of  bright  ebony  faces,  dancing  and  singing 
by  the  light  of  the  moon,  under  the  boughs  of  the  old 
pine-trees,  rose  to  his  remembrance.  A  few  minutes 
later,  he  stood  under  the  dewy  branches  of  the  syca- 
mores, which  seemed,  as  they  rustled  in  the  night  gaie? 
to  whisper  the  sweet  name  of  Eulalia. 


92  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

He  was  invited  into  the  family  sitting-room,  and  wel- 
comed with  great  cordiality.  There  was  a  delightful 
home-atmosphere  diffused  around  every  object.  Mr. 
Hastings  was  sitting,  with  a  book,  in  which  he  seemed 
earnestly  engaged,  in  his  right  hand,  while  his  left  arm 
was  thrown  round  Dora,  who  was  enthroned  on  his 
knees.  Reuben,  the  student  youth,  was  bending  over  a 
heavy  and  venerable-looking  tome  that  was  spread  open 
before  him ;  his  head  was  leaning  on  his  hand,  which 
was  half  buried  in  a  mass  of  dark  red,  glowing  curls. 
Mrs.  Hastings  was  busily  engaged  in  knitting,  that  most 
cosy  and  domestic  of  all  occupations ;  and  Eulalia's 
hand  held  a  roll  of  snowy  linen,  in  which  her  threaded 
needle  was  brightly  glittering.  The  graceful  parapher- 
nalia of  woman's  industry  was  round  her.  Her  dress 
was  the  perfection  of  neatness  and  taste;  she  rose  at 
his  entrance,  while  her  soft  yet  thrilling  eye  beamed 
with  the  welcome  her  modest  lips  dared  not  think  of 
uttering. 

Dora  bounded  from  her  father's  knee  with  the  light- 
ness of  a  fawn,  and  openly  expressed  her  rapture  at 
seeing  him  again.  Moreland's  warm  heart  responded  to 
her  joyous  greeting.  No  barrier  of  ceremony  interposed 
its  cold  restraint  between  him  and  his  sweet  child  friend. 
He  could  take  her  in  his  arms,  kiss  her  blooming  cheek, 
and  feel  drawn  closer  to  Eulalia  by  these  tender,  inno- 
cent caresses.  He  could  take  many  a  liberty,  under 
pretext  of  amusing  his  little  companion,  which  he  would 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  93 

not  have  done  without  her  participation.  He  would  not 
have  dared  to  penetrate  into  the  mysteries  of  Eulalia's 
rosewood  work-box,  but  Dora  drew  it  towards  her,  and 
displayed  her  politeness  by  exhibiting,  one  by  one,  its 
hoarded  treasures.  Almost  everything  it  contained 
had  a  history,  which  the  young  chatterbox  was  eager  to 
tell. 

"  My  dear,  I  fear  you  are  troublesome,"  said  her 
mother.  "  You  had  better  get  down  and  sit  in  a  chair. 
You  must  not  appropriate  Mr.  Moreland's  visit  to  your- 
self." 

"Who  did  you  come  to  see  ?"  asked  the  child,  looking 
smilingly  into  his  eyes — "  Sister  Eula  ?" 

Every  one  laughed  at  this  abrupt  question,  even 
Eulalia,  though  the  pale  blush  of  her  cheek  indicated  a 
transient  confusion. 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  came  to  see  Sister  Eula, 
more  than  yourself?"  asked  Moreland,  thinking  the  child 
had  most  marvellous  penetration. 

"  Cause  you  look  at  her  so  hard,"  cried  Dora,  in  a 
confidential  half-whisper,  "and  cause  she's  so  pretty." 

The  pale  blush-rose  on  Eulalia's  cheek  turned  to 
crimson,  and  Moreland  himself  was  conscious  of  an 
uncomfortable  glow,  while  the  student  youth  actually 
shouted  with  laughter. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Hastings  gravely,  "you  are 
entirely  too  forward.     You  talk  too  much  for  a  little 
girl.     You  must  go  to  bed  immediately." 
141 


94  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"Please,  ma,  I  won't  talk  any  more,"  exclaimed  the 
little  culprit.     "I  ain't  a  bit  sleepy." 

Moreland  pleaded  eloquently  in  her  behalf.  He  said 
she  deserved  a  reward  for  calling  such  a  bright  and 
beautiful  colour  to  her  sister's  cheek ;  that  he  admired 
her  discrimination,  and  thanked  her  for  giving  him  credit 
for  so  much  good  taste  and  judgment.  So  sportively 
and  gracefully  did  he  bear  himself  through  the  awk- 
wardness of  the  moment,  that  it  was  soon  forgotten,  and 
conversation  flowed  on  without  pause  or  interruption. 
There  was  a  cluster  of  flowers  standing  in  the  centre  of 
the  table. 

"You  like  flowers,  do  you  not?"  said  he  to  Eulalia. 

"Like  is  too  cold  a  word,"  she  replied.  "I  love 
them  next  to  human  beings.  They  have  a  language  to 
me,  deeper  than  words,  sweeter  even  than  music." 

"  If  you  want  beautiful  flowers,  you  must  come  to  the 
South,"  he  said.  "All  that  you  cultivate  here  with  so 
much  care,  grows  wild  in  our  forests  and  enamels  our 
green  savannas.  The  yellow  jessamine  gilds  our  woods 
with  its  blossoming  gold,  the  virgin's  bower  twines  its 
soft  purplish  wreath  with  the  rosy  clusters  of  the  multi- 
flora,  and  the  coral  honeysuckle  rivals  the  scarlet  bloom 
of  your  mountain  ash-trees.  You  have  no  conception 
of  the  beauty  of  s)me  of  our  Southern  landscapes,  the 
?uxuriance  of  our  gardens,  the  fragrance  of  our  flowers." 

"As  I  never  expect  to  witness  these  beautiful  scenes," 
replied  Eulalia,  "I  must  be  content  with  the  productions 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  95 

of  our  colder  soil.  As  I  cannot  compare  them  with  yours, 
I  enjoy  ours  as  far  as  my  taste  has  been  developed, 
though  I  am  conscious  of  capacities  of  beauty  which 
have  never  yet  been  exercised — and  probably  never  will 
be." 

As  she  said  this,  her  voice  saddened,  and  her  eye 
looked  pensive  under  the  shade  of  its  drooping  lashes. 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  those  pretty  flowers  !"  said  Dora. 
"Do  you  live  a  great  way  off?" 

"A  great  way,"  replied  Moreland;  smiling,  "but  I'll 
take  you  home  with  me,  if  you'll  go.  I'll  make  you  a 
bower  of  roses,  and  you  shall  be  Queen  of  the  blooming 
year!" 

"Will  you? — may  I?"  she  exclaimed,  then  jumping 
down,  she  ran  to  her  father,  who  seemed  in  profound 
meditation.  "  Pa,  may  I  go  home  with  Mr.  Moreland, 
and  live  with  him  in  a  beautiful  bower  ?" 

"Foolish,  foolish  child!"  he  cried,  "you  know  not 
what  you  ask." 

The  words  were  nothing  in  themselves, — they  might 
refer  to  the  distance  to  be  overcome,  to  the  impracti- 
bility  of  the  thing ;  but  Moreland  felt  there  was  a  deeper 
meaning,  and  if  literally  translated  would  read  thus : — 

"  Foolish  child !  you  know  not  that  beneath  those 
beautiful  flowers  is  concealed  the  bite  of  the  serpent, 
the  sting  of  the  adder.  Though  fair  and  smiling  to  the 
eye, — thou  bright   and   sunny  land! — yet  it  shall   be 


96  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

better  for  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  in  the  day  of  judgment 
than  for  thee." 

"/should  like  to  travel  in  the  South,"  cried  Reuben, 
lifting  his  eyes  from  his  book,  and  speaking  with  great 
animation.  "I  should  like,  of  all  things,  to  visit  the 
Southern  States  ?" 

"Why,  my  son?"  asked  Mr.  Hastings,  in  a  tone  of 
grave  surprise. 

"  I  have  heard  so  much  about  them,  I  want  to  judge 
for  myself,"  replied  the  youth,  with  decision. 

"  Come  and  visit  me,"  said  Moreland,  observing  a 
fire  and  intelligence  in  the  countenance  of  the  youth 
which  he  had  not  noticed  before,  "  the  woods  of  Carolina 
and  Georgia  furnish  rare  sport  for  the  hunter,  and  our 
streams  abound  in  fish." 

"  Reuben  has  tasks  before  him  somewhat  less  fasci- 
nating than  hunting  and  fishing,"  said  his  father;  "but 
rather  more  indispensable.  We  have  not  quite  as  much 
leisure  here  as  you  gentlemen  of  the  South.  Time,  v/ith 
us,  is  wealth;  and  we  realize,  in  its  fullest  sense,  the 
meaning  of  golden  moments  and  the  diamond  sands  of 
the  hour-glass.  Sir,"  added  he,  fixing  his  keen  eyes 
steadfastly  on  Moreland's  face,  "  I  presume,  from  the 
hospitalities  you  are  offering  my  children,  that  you  are 
a  married  gentlemen." 

"  I  have  been  married,"  replied  Moreland,  turning 
very  pale,  then  reddening  even  to  the  hue  of  crimson. 

"Your  wife  is  dead?"  continued  Mr.  Hastings. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  97 

"No,  sir;  she  wlio  was  my  "wife  still  lives;  but  she 
no  longer  bears  my  name.  I  am  free  from  the  marriage 
bond,  but  not  by  death." 

There  was  a  pause  after  these  unfortunate  questions. 
Mr.  Hastings  hemmed  and  cleared  his  throat,  and  More- 
land,  perhaps  fearful  of  being  probed  still  deeper,  turned 
towards  him  and  said — 

"  It  is  very  painful  to  me  to  allude  to  these  circum- 
stances. Being  a  stranger,  I  cannot  explain  them.  I 
therefore  prefer  to  remain  silent.  It  was  more  to  escape 
from  sad  and  bitter  recollections,  than  to  attend  to  the 
demands  of  business,  that  I  left  my  Southern  home  and 
became  a  wanderer  here." 

He  paused  in  great  agitation.  The  soft,  dark  eye  of 
Eulalia  met  his  own,  beaming  with  sympathy  and  glis- 
tening with  sensibility.  There  was  no  reproach,  no  sus- 
picion in  its  clear  depths  of  light.  Her  delicacy  was 
wounded  by  her  father's  abrupt  inquisitiveness.  She 
wanted  to  apologize  for  him,  to  soothe  the  pain  he  had 
inflicted, — but  what  could  she  say,  or  do  ?  She  felt,  too, 
an  inexplicable  shock.  She  had  never  dreamed  that 
Moreland  was  a  married  man  ;  true,  he  was  divorced, 
but  that  was  so  shocking.  He  had  loved  and  wedded. 
The  ties  were  broken ;  but  could  hearts  be  wrenched 
asunder  by  the  hand  of  violence,  without  for  ever  bleed- 
ing? She  wished  she  had  not  known  it,  or  knowing  so 
much,  that  more  could  be  revealed. 

"I  am  sorry  that    I   touched  upon    an   unpleasant 


03  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

theme,"  said  Mr.  Hastings.  "I  had  no  intention  of 
intruding  on  domestic  misfortunes.  We  Yankees  are 
accused  of  being  inquisitive,  and  perhaps  we  are  a  little 
so.  It  is  natural,  however,  for  us  to  feel  some  interest 
in  those  who  are  brought  in  contact  with  us.  You  see 
us  here  in  the  bosom  of  our  families — just  as  we  are — 
without  disguise  or  mystery.  In  this  respect  you  have 
a  decided  advantage,  who  give  us  nothing  but  your  name 
in  return." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Hastings.  A  stranger  should 
always  bear  credentials  with  him,  proving  his  claims  to 
a  hospitable  reception.  I  have  these  in  my  trunk,  which 
I  would  be  happy  to  show  you,  if  it  would  not  trespass 
on  your  attention.  I  brought  letters  of  introduction 
from  some  of  the  first  men  of  the  South,  which  have 
given  me  a  passport  to  the  best  society  of  New  York 
and  Boston.  I  would  be  glad  if  my  private  history 
were  fully  known,  knowing  that  your  sympathies  would 
be  all  enlisted  in  my  favour ;  but  I  cannot  win  them  by 
a  process  so  exquisitely  painful." 

"Let  us  say  no  more  about  it,"  said  his  host.  "I 
intended  this  evening  to  avoid  every  unpleasant  subject, 
every  national  difference,  and  have  a  real  social,  free 
and  easy  time.  Supposing  we  have  a  little  music.  We 
can  have  some  songs  to-night.  Eula,  give  us  one  of 
your  little  simple  Scotch  airs — one  of  the  melodies  of 
Burns.  Burns  is  my  favourite  poet,  sir.  He  wrote  as 
if  there  were  burning  coals  upon  his  heart.     He  was  a 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  99 

man  as  well  as  a  poet.  Come,  Eula,  you  are  always 
ready.  You  have  no  instrument  to  tune.  I  believe  you 
are  fond  of  music,  Mr.  Moreland?" 

"  Passionately  so — especially  the  music  of  the  human 
voice." 

And  Eulalia  sang  till  the  very  air  seemed  to  ripple 
as  her  melodious  breath  mingled  with  it3  waves.  She 
needed  no  accompaniment.  Why  should  she  ?  The 
nightingale  has  none. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Day  after  day  passed  away,  and  still  Moreland  lin 
gered  in  the  village,  unable  to  break  the  spell  that  bound 
him  to  the  spot.  Week  after  week  passed  away,  and 
still  he  lingered,  feeling  the  spell  that  bound  him 
stronger  and  still  more  strong.  He  no  longer  sought  to 
liberate  himself  from  the  enchantment.  He  resolved 
that  Eulalia  Hastings  should  be  his  wife,  if  he  had  the 
power  to  win  her  affections,  in  spite  of  the  terrible 
warfare  her  father  was  making  against  his  principles 
and  practice.  In  spite  of  the  awful  declaration,  he  so 
well  remembered,  recorded  in  one  of  her  father's  written 
documents,  "  that  he  would  rather  a  daughter  of  his 
should  be  laid  in  the  deepest  grave  of  New  England 
than  be  wedded  to  a  Southern  slaveholder,"  he  resolved 
to  triumph  over  all  opposition,  and  transplant  this 
Northern  flower  to  his  own  sunnier  clime. 

"For  many  virtues  had  he  admired  several  women," 
and  one  he  had  loved,  with  all  the  vehemence  of  pas- 
sion— loved  "not  wisely,  but  too  well."  He  had  loved, 
in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  reason,  the  warnings  of 

(100) 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  101 

prudence,  and  trusted  against  the  admonitions  of  friend- 
ship and  the  pleadings  of  affection.  Now  reason  and 
prudence  justified,  instead  of  opposing  his  choice.  Eu- 
lalia  possessed  every  qualification  wanting  in  the  bril- 
liant, but  misguided  Claudia.  There  was  about  her  a 
pure,  sweet,  fresh  womanliness,  a  virgin  delicacy,  a 
strong  but  guarded  sensibility,  a  deep,  genuine,  but 
unobtrusive  piety.  She  was  fair  without  vanity,  intel- 
ligent and  highly  cultivated  without  pedantry  or  display, 
admired,  caressed,  and  beloved,  without  pride  or  vain- 
glory. Yet  with  all  these  charming  and  engaging 
qualities,  he  could  see  that  her  character  was  only  half 
developed ;  that  there  was  a  latent  strength  and  enthu- 
siasm, a  sleeping  power,  which,  like  lightning,  is  born 
only  of  the  night-cloud  and  the  storm.  The  good  land- 
lady, while  boasting  of  her  many  lovers,  had  remarked 
"that  she  took  to  none  of  them,"  and  it  was  probable, 
that  the  portals  of  her  heart,  that  temple  adorned  with 
such  pearls  and  precious  gems,  had  never  yet  opened 
and  closed  on  the  divinity  destined  to  be  enshrined  and 
worshipped  there. 

And  what  were  Eulalia's  feelings  ?  Her  youth  had 
been  gliding  over  a  smooth,  unrippling  stream,  calmly 
and  quietly,  yet  monotonously.  Now  the  current  quick- 
ened and  swelled,  and  sunbeams  and  shadows  chased 
each  other  over  the  surface.  New  life  was  born  within 
her.  She  lived  in  a  new  and  more  glorious  world.  All 
that  her  pure  heart  had  ever  imagined  of  manly  excel- 


102  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   ERIDE. 

lence,  or  imagination  dreamed  of  manly  grace,  she  found 
realized  in  Moreland.  His  homage  humbled,  while  it 
exalted  her ;  for  she  deemed  herself  unworthy  to  re- 
ceive it. 

She  began  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  second  love, 
stronger  than  the  first.  He  offered  to  tell  her  the  his- 
tory of  his  former  ill-fated  attachment,  and  the  causes 
which  had  destroyed  it ;  but  though  her  curiosity  had 
been  strongly  excited,  she  refused  to  hear  what  she  knew 
would  give  him  pain  to  reveal.  With  implicit  confidence 
in  his  honour  and  truth,  she  believed  him  blameless  in 
the  transaction,  and  she  shrunk  with  unconquerable 
repugnance  from  hearing  from  his  lips  the  name  of 
Claudia.     It  was  mentioned  no  more. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  village  gossip  was  mute, 
when  there  was  such  abundant  fuel  to  feed  its  loquacity, 
or  that  parental  solicitude  was  slumbering,  when  there 
was  so  much  to  excite  and  alarm  it.  Mr.  Hastings 
found  himself  in  a  most  awkward  and  distressing  situa- 
tion. He  was  an  exceedingly  ambitious  man — ambitious 
for  himself  and  his  children.  Had  wealth  been  at  his 
command,  he  would  have  loved  to  make  a  display  of 
magnificence  and  pomp,  that  would  have  dazzled  the 
eyes  of  the  more  lowly  and  obscure.  He  wanted  his 
daughter  to  marry  a  distinguished  man,  who  would  give 
consequence  to  the  family,  and  increase  his  own  influ- 
ence. Here  was  a  gentleman  of  wealth  beyond  his 
most  sanguine  expectations,  of  most  refined  and  capti- 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  103 

vating  manners,  intelligent,  accomplished,  and  bearing 
the  highest  credentials  of  his  birth  and  standing — a  man 
of  whose  alliance  he  would  be  proud;  but  he  belonged 
to  a  class  which,  for  years,  he  had  been  denouncing  as 
unworthy  of  the  fellowship  of  Christians ;  he  dwelt  in  a 
portion  of  the  land  doomed  by  him  as  the  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  of  modern  times,  over  which  the  God  of 
retribution  was  brooding  in  the  awful  might  of  coming 
vengeance.  His  principles,  his  consistency,  his  reputa- 
tion were  at  stake.  He  had  always  believed  the  South- 
erners a  selfish,  aristocratic,  lazy,  self-indulging,  cruel 
set  of  people ;  he  had  whetted  and  sharpened  his  preju- 
dices on  the  rough  grindstone  of  popular  ignorance,  till 
they  had  acquired  the  edge  and  keenness  of  the  razor. 
The  unexpected  appearance  of  a  Southern  gentleman  in 
his  own  immediate  circle,  the  first  with  whom  he  had 
ever  become  familiarly  acquainted,  was  an  exciting  inci- 
dent in  the  village  monotony  of  his  life.  He  could  not 
help  admiring  him  as  an  individual,  he  could  not  help 
acknowledging  the  truth  and  candour  of  many  of  his 
arguments  ;  but  the  champion  of  truth  must  never  admit 
the  possibility  of  his  having  been  in  error,  and  the 
character  for  consistency  must  be  preserved  at  any 
sacrifice. 

"  What,  marry  my  daughter !"  he  exclaimed,  when 
the  crisis  arrived  for  which  he  had  been  preparing  all 
the  ammunition  of  his  intellect.  "  Sir,  I  am  sorry,  very 
sorry,  but  it  can  never  be.    There  is  a  great  gulf  between 


104  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

us, — one  that  I  fear  will  never  be  filled.  Were  I  to 
consent  to  this  union,  I  should  destroy,  by  a  single  act, 
the  labour  and  devotion  of  years.  Were  you  a  poor 
New  England  farmer,  I  would  willingly  receive  you  as 
,aj  son ;  but  holding  the  position  and  advocating  the 
principles  you  now  do,  you  can  never  be  to  me  more 
than  you  have  hitherto  been, — the  guest  of  my  house- 
hold, the  companion  of  the  passing  hour." 

"  Is  the  future  happiness  of  your  daughter  a  question 
of  no  interest  in  your  mind?"  asked  Moreland,  who  had 
nerved  himself  to  encounter  the  most  vigorous  opposi- 
tion ;  but  who  believed  that  patience  and  perseverance 
and  will  could  finally  overcome  it. 

"Does  she  know  of  your  application?"  asked  the 
father,  anxiously. 

"  She  does.  It  is  with  her  sanction  that  I  come ;  and 
I  am  authorized  to  say,  that  her  happiness  as  well  as 
my  own  is  involved  in  your  decision." 

"  You  should  not  have  done  this.  You  knew  what 
my  sentiments  were.  You  had  read  from  my  own  pen 
a  sentence  I  know  you  must  have  remembered,  '  that  I 
would  rather  see  a  daughter  of  mine  laid  in  the  deepest 
grave  of  New  England  than  wedded  to  a  Southern 
planter.'  You  had  received  my  answer  before  making 
the  proposition.  You  have  trifled  with  my  daughter's 
affections,  and  endangered  her  peace.  You  should  not 
have  done  this — you  should  have  made  your  first  appeal 
to  me,  sir. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         105 

"I  have  done  nothing  clandestine,  sir,"  replied  More- 
land,  proudly ;  "  from  my  very  first  visit,  you  must  have 
perceived  my  admiration  of  your  daughter.  I  have 
never  attempted  to  conceal  my  feelings, — they  have 
been  as  open  as  the  day.  I  had  read  the  awful  declara- 
tion to  which  you  refer ;  but  I  did  not,  could  not  believe 
it  the  real  language  of  your  heart.  I  looked  upon  it 
as  a  figure  of  rhetoric,  and  nothing  more.  Sir,  your 
daughter's  heart  is  mine, — I  have  won  it  by  no  subtle 
arts,  no  secret  means.  It  is  the  reward  of  my  pure 
affection, — my  strong  and  ardent  love.  Give  her  to  me, 
and  I  will  receive  her  as  the  dearest,  holiest  trust  ever 
given  to  man.  Give  her  to  me,  and  I  will  bear  her  to  a 
clime  more  congenial  to  the  delicacy  of  her  constitution 
than  this,  where  eastern  blasts  wither  so  early  the  fairest 
flowers  of  life ;  I  will  guard  her  with  a  tenderness  and 
devotion  equalled  only  by  her  loveliness  and  worth." 

"Mr.  Moreland,"  cried  Mr.  Hastings,  putting  his 
hands  behind  him  and  walking  up  and  down  the  room 
with  short,  quick  steps,  "you  agitate  me  very  much. 
Eulalia  is  a  dear  child  to  me — a  blessed  child.  From 
her  cradle  to  the  present  hour  she  has  never,  to  my 
knowledge,  deserved  reproof  or  blame.  I  love  all  my 
children,  but  Eulalia  is  the  darling  of  my  heart.  God 
forgive  me  if  I  have  sacrificed  her  happiness  to  my  im- 
prudence !" 

"You  have  not  sacrificed  her  happiness,  you  have  se- 
cured it,  sir.     She  will  be  the  centre  of  a  happy  home 


106  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

She  will  be  surrounded  by  affluence  and  comfort,  the 
mistress  of  faithful,  affectionate  beings,  by  "whom  she 
■will  be  beloved  and  adored.  She  will  bring  light  and 
joy  to  scenes  darkened  by  domestic  disappointment,  and 
exercise  a  mother's  holy  influence  over  the  child,  doomed 
to  the  saddest  of  all  orphanages." 

"  Ah !  I  am  glad  you  mentioned  this.  Were  there 
no  other  objection,  I  could  not  consent  to  her  marriage 
with  one  who  has  been  divorced.  She  might  be  exposed 
to  much  sorrow  and  misconstruction.  Besides,  it  proves 
that  your  affections  are  easily  excited,  and  probably 
easily  subdued.     You  will  soon  forget  my  daughter." 

"  I  cannot  wonder  at  your  want  of  faith  in  my  stabi- 
lity and  constancy,  but  I  have  been  more  unfortunate 
than  blameworthy.  I  was  very  young  when  I  married, 
and  if  I  erred  in  my  choice  I  may  be  forgiven  on  the 
plea  of  youth  and  inexperience.  Passion  may  die  away, 
but  love,  such  love  as  I  bear  Eulalia,  can  never  change. 
She  was  created  for  me  in  the  great  counsels  of  eternity. 
The  moment  I  saw  her  my  soul  claimed  her  as  its  own. 
I  was  led  here  for  no  other  purpose  but  to  find  her,  my 
heart's  immortal  counterpart.  I  have  remained  for  no 
other  purpose  but  to  win  her,  and  I  will  stay  till  love, 
stronger  than  the  trumpet  blast  of  Israel's  priests,  shall 
break  down  the  Jericho  of  prejudice  and  fanaticism." 

Moreland  was  losing  his  usual  self-possession.  A  hot 
flush  crimsoned  his  cheek;  his  voice  became  husky  and 
tremulous.     He  was  beginning  to  feel  as  proud  as  Lu- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         107 

cifer.  Mr.  Hastings  seemed  a  very  insignificant  object 
to  be  placed  in  opposition  to  the  mightiness  of  his  will. 
Mr.  Hastings  felt  the  influence  of  this  regal  passion  of 
the  moment,  and  a  dark  reddish  spark  kindled  in  his 

"Do  you  threaten  me?"  he  exclaimed,  looking  stea- 
dily in  the  face  of  Moreland.  "  I  tell  you,  young  man, 
that  lofty  tone  will  have  far  less  effect  than  the  one  you 
used  awhile  ago.  I  am  a  sturdy,  independent  Yankee, 
and  high  words  have  no  more  power  on  me  than  the 
summer  wind  on  the  century-rooted  oak.  When  I  be- 
lieve I  am  in  the  right  I  am  as  firm  as  my  own  granite 
hills,  and  you  might  as  well  attempt  to  move  them  as 
me." 

Moreland,  who  had  never  withdrawn  his  eye  one  mo- 
ment from  the  dark  red  spark  burning  so  intensely  on  him, 
felt  the  power  of  an  inexorable  will  grasping  and  clench- 
ing him,  till  a  cold  numb  feeling  came  over  him.  The 
hot  colour  died  away  on  his  cheek,  leaving  him  as  pale 
as  marble.  He  could  not,  would  not,  even  for  Eulalia's 
sake,  humble  himself  before  this  obstinate,  immovable 
man,  only  to  be  trampled  on  and  crushed.  He  moved 
towards  the  table  and  took  up  his  hat.  There  was  i* 
wild  rose  in  it,  which  he  had  plucked  by  the  wayside, 
intending  to  give  it  to  Eulalia.  It  was  wilted,  but  sur- 
passingly sweet  in  odour.  The  sight  of  that  withered 
flower  softened  his  feelings,  and  turned  them  in  a  new 
channel.     It  seemed  an  emblem  of  Eulalia,  doomed  to  a 


108         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

heart-blight,  beneath  which  her  youth  and  beauty  would 
languish  and  fade.  He  thought  less  of  his  own  sorrow 
than  hers,  of  whose  love  he  had  every  assurance  inge- 
nuous modesty  could  impart. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  your  decision  is  unalter- 
able ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  far  less  regal  than  that  which 
had  so  exasperated  Mr.  Hastings.  "  Is  it  your  inexo- 
rable resolution  that  I  shall  not  wed  your  daughter  ?" 

"It  is." 

Moreland  laid  his  hand  on  the  latch  and  was  passing 
out,  when  Mr.  Hastings  added,  with  an  entire  change 
of  manner — "  I  am  sorry  to  part  with  one  unpleasant 
feeling  on  either  side.  I  do  not  wish  to  give  you  pain. 
You  have  paid  my  daughter  a  great  compliment,  which 
we  shall  all  appreciate.  You  must  perceive  that  I  am 
actuated  by  principle  alone.  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  you 
are  rich.  Were  my  judgment  to  be  influenced  by  per- 
sonal accomplishments,  yours  would  be  irresistible.  I 
have  but  one  objection,  but  that  is  insurmountable. 
Were  you  an  humble  missionary  to  some  heathen  land, 
I  would  give  her  to  you  in  the  name  of  the  living  God ; 
I  would  give  her  as  the  firstling  of  my  flock ;  I  would 
devote  her  as  a  lamb  without  spot  or  blemish,  to  a  good 
and  glorious  cause." 

"1  look  upon  myself  as  a  missionary,"  replied  More- 
land,  with  a  kindling  countenance.  "I  look  upon  every 
master  and  mistress  in  our  Southern  land,  as  missiona- 
ries appointed  to  civilize  and  christianize  the  sons  and 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         109 

daughters  of  Africa.  To  them  Ethiopia  is  stretching 
out  its  sable  hands,  and  through  them  they  are  lifted  to 
God.  If  all  the  efforts  of  all  the  missionaries  in  our 
country  were  concentrated  in  the  dark  regions  of  Africa, 
they  could  not,  judging  of  the  success  of  their  labours 
elsewhere,  make  one-tenth  part  of  the  number  of  con- 
verts that  are  found  in  our  households  and  plantations. 
In  our  towns  and  villages,  the  churches  of  the  negroes 
rise  side  by  side  with  our  own.  Their  prayers  of  faith, 
their  hymns  of  praise,  ascend  on  the  same  breeze,  and 
are  borne  upward  to  the  same  heaven.  Once  more, 
then,  I  entreat  you,  give  me  your  daughter,  and  look 
upon  her  evermore  as  the  wife  of  a  Christian  mis- 
sionary." 

"I  cannot  consent  to  evil  that  good  may  come,"  was 
the  emphatic  reply.  "But  one  condition  I  will  make. 
Liberate  your  slaves ;  remove  the  curse  from  your  house- 
hold and  your  land ;  come  to  me  with  a  pure,  unbur- 
dened conscience,  and  I  will  oppose  no  barrier  to  your 
love." 

"I  have  offered  many  of  them  their  freedom,  on  con- 
dition that  they  go  to  Liberia,  but  they  will  not  listen 
to  the  proposition.  And  I  cannot,  even  to  secure  Para- 
dise itself,  cast  upon  the  Northern  world  the  large 
family  dependent  upon  me  for  comfort  and  support. 
Under  such  circumstances,  the  freedom  for  which  you 
plead  would  be  their  direst  curse,  instead  of  their  great- 
est blessing.  I  believe,  in  God's  good  time,  the  day  of 
142 


110  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

liberation  will  come,  if  man  will  wait  his  leading.  No, 
sir,  I  cannot  accede  to  your  proposition ;  nor  is  it  from 
mercenary  motives  that  I  refuse.  Heaven  knows  I  am 
above  such  considerations.  If  I  can  purchase  happiness 
only  at  the  sacrifice  of  duty,  then  I  must  be  for  ever 
wretched." 

"  May  you  live  to  have  very  different  ideas  of  duty 
from  what  now  govern  you !  You  have  decided  the 
question  yourself,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  You  can  no 
longer  reproach  me  for  destroying  the  happiness  of 
Eulalia." 

"You  might  have  spared  me  that,"  exclaimed  More- 
land,  with  irrepressible  bitterness.  Then,  fearing  to 
trust  himself  to  say  more  in  his  present  maddened  state 
of  feeling,  he  made  a  silent  bow  and  left  the  house. 

As  he  passed  through  the  yard  he  met  Dora,  with  her 
hands  laden  with  flowers.  She  sprang  to  meet  him, 
with  a  bright  and  joyous  smile ;  but  on  seeing  his  pale, 
stern,  and  agitated  countenance,  she  seemed  bewildered 
and  frightened,  and  the  flowers  dropped  from  her  hands. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  cried.  "What  makes  you 
look  so  sorry  and  angry  ?  Don't  you  love  me  any 
more t 

Without  saying  a  word,  he  took  the  child  in  his  arms 
and  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  with  a  wild  passion,  of 
which  he  was  not  aware.  He  identified  her  for  the  mo- 
ment with  Eulalia,  and  felt  as  if  he  could  no  longer 
restrain  the  overflowings  of  his  love  and  despair. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         Ill 

"Please  don't!"  said  the  little  girl,  entreatingly — 
skrinking  from  the  arms  which  had  always  before  so 
gently  encircled  her — gazing  earnestly  and  fearfully  in 
his  face. 

"Dora,  I  am  going  home,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  am 
going,  never  to  return." 

"Going?  when?"  cried  the  child. 

"  To-morrow." 

"Let  me  go  and  tell  Eula,"  said  Dora,  running  two 
or  three  steps  from  him  in  her  eagerness  to  tell  the 
tidings, — 'then  returning  and  taking  hold  of  his  hand,  she 
hurst  into  tears. 

"What  makes  you  go  when  we  all  love  you  so  ?  Why 
can't  you  live  here  all  the  time  ?" 

"  It  is  because  I  love  you  that  I  must  leave  you. 
Tell  Eula — but  it  is  no  matter — I  must  see  her  once 
more  before  I  go." 

Bending  down  and  kissing  the  fair  forehead  now 
clouded  with  grief,  he  passed  from  under  the  shade  of 
the  sycamore  boughs,  through  the  white  gate  and  into 
the  open  street.  He  thought  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
pale  face,  at  an  upper  window, — a  white,  faint  gleam, 
like  a  vanishing  star, — but  he  dared  not  look  back 
again.  He  dared  not  think  of  the  anguish  he  was 
leaving  behind, — he  could  hardly  bear  the  weight  and 
intensity  of  that  which  he  was  bearing  away. 

"Albert,"  said  he,  as   soon   as  he  found  himself  in 


112         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

his  own  room,  "  get  everything  ready ;  "we  shall  go  to- 
morrow." 

"Bless  you  for  the  news,  Mars.  Russell!"  exclaimed 
the  overjoyed  mulatto ;  "  I'm  mighty  glad  to  hear  it. 
Won't  I  see  old  Georgie  again?  Wont  I  say  howdy  to 
all  the  blessed  old  darkies?  But," — pausing  abruptly, 
while  a  sudden  seriousness  settled  on  his  bright  face, — 
"  what  the  matter,  master  ?  Anything  happened  to 
worry  you  ?     Any  bad  news  from  home  ?" 

"No  !  I  only  wish  to  be  perfectly  quiet.  Don't  talk 
to  me." 

Throwing  himself  into  a  chair  by  the  window,  he 
leaned  his  throbbing  temples  on  his  hand,  and  fixed  his 
gloomy  gaze  on  the  God-devoted  temple, — the  birth- 
place of  his  love  and  his  sorrow.  There  he  sat,  with- 
out change  of  position,  till  supper  was  announced. 

"I  want  no  supper,"  said  he,  without  moving. 

"Indeed,  Mars.  Russell,  you'll  be  sick,  at  this  rate," 
said  Albert,  watching  with  increasing  anxiety  his  pale 
and  altered  countenance;  "indeed,  you  are  sick  now," 
he  added,  laying  his  hand  humbly  but  affectionately  on 
his  master's  burning  forehead;  "you've  got  fever,  sure 
enough,  this  minute.  'Spose  I  go  and  get  a  doctor, 
master  ?" 

This  act  might  seem  too  familiar,  to  those  unaccus- 
tomed to  the  caressing  freedom  of  manner  often  per- 
mitted to  a  favourite  slave.      One  of  Albert's  chief 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  113 

delights  was  to  brush  his  master's  hair,  and  bathe  his 
temples,  when  suffering  from  a  sick  and  aching  head. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  boy,"  he  cried;  "I  tell  you  again, 
there's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 

"  But,  Mars.  Russell,  you  don't  know  how  hot  your 
head  is."  The  smooth,  bronze-coloured  fingers  gently 
threaded  the  dark  hair  that  fell  heavily  on  his  master's 
brow. 

"You  shall  see  how  easily  I  can  cool  it,"  said  More- 
land  ;  and,  wishing  to  relieve  the  anxiety  of  his  humble 
friend,  he  rose  and  approached  the  wash-stand,  intend- 
ing to  plunge  his  aching  temples  in  the  brimming  basin; 
but  he  reeled,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  not  Albert's 
arms  supported  him. 

"I  do  feel  strangely  here,"  said  he,  putting  his  hand 
to  his  head.     "I  had  better  lie  down  awhile." 

Albert  smoothed  the  pillow  under  his  head,  as  gently 
as  a  woman  could  have  done ;  then  bringing  the  basin 
to  the  bed-side,  he  bathed  his  forehead  and  moistened 
his  hair,  till  the  throbbing  veins  seemed  less  wiry  to  the 
touch.  He  stood,  dark  and  gentle  as  the  twilight,  now 
stealing  soft  and  stilly  round  the  room,  and  hanging  a 
dusky  curtain  over  the  bed. 

That  night,  when  the  family  of  Mr.  Hastings  gath- 
ered round  the  supper  table,  the  place  of  Eulalia  was 
vacant — she  had  a  sick  headache — she  was  lying  down 
— she  did  not  want  any  supper.  Mrs.  Hastings  looked 
very  sad ;  Mr.  Hastings  had  a  grave,  contracted  brow, 


114        THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

and  even  Dora's  sunny  brow  of  childhood  wore  the  gloom 
of  solemn  thought.  The  first  word  uttered  was  by  her, 
after  looking  at  her  father. 

"  Papa,  is  it  right  to  say  grace  if  one  isn't  thankful  ?" 

"What  makes  you  ask  such  a  strange  question, 
child?" 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  look  thankful  to-night,  papa, 
that's  all." 

Reuben  laughed,  but  Mrs.  Hastings  drew  a  deep  sigh. 
She  felt  that  the  blessing  -was  wanting  at  the  board, 
from  which  the  sweet  face  of  Eulalia  was  banished  by 
reason  of  sorrow.  She  knew  the  sorrow  must  be  deep 
and  full,  which  she  had  not  the  power  to  confine  within 
her  own  unselfish  bosom.  The  submissive  and  unques- 
tioning wife  was  merged  in  the  anxious,  sympathizing 
mother,  and  her  heart  instinctively  rebelled  against  her 
husband's  cold  and  harsh  decree.  She  admired  and 
esteemed  the  gentle  and  gallant  stranger,  whom  she 
would  probably  never  more  behold,  and  loved  him, 
because  he  loved  her  Eulalia.  He  had  come  among 
them  like  a  beam  of  light,  and  what  darkness  and  dull- 
ness he  would  leave  behind  ! 

"  How  sorry  I  am  Mr.  Moreland  is  going  away !" 
exclaimed  Dora,  again  breaking  the  heavy  silence. 
"  Papa,  what  makes  him  go  ?  And  what  made  him  look 
so  strange  and  sorry  when  he  went  away?': 

"  He  wanted  to  take  your  sister  Eula  away  with  him, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         115 

and  I  would  not  let  him,"  replied  the  father,  laying  down 
his  knife  and  fork. 

"  But  he  would  bring  her  back  again,  papa  !" 

"He  wanted  her  to  live  there  all  the  time.  You 
would  not  be  likely  ever  to  see  her  again.  We  should 
no  more  hear  her  sweet  voice  in  the  temple  of  God  or  at 
the  altar  of  home.  She  would  be  to  us  just  as  if  she 
were  dead ;  for  the  places  that  now  know  her  would  no 
more  be  gladdened  by  her  presence." 

He  looked  at  his  wife  while  he  was  speaking,  and  the 
words  sunk  deep  in  her  soul.  He  had  touched  the  right 
chord.  She  shuddered  at  the  desolation  of  the  prospect 
he  presented,  and  wondered  she  had  not  realized  its 
dreariness  and  darkness. 

"  I  am  sure  he  is  rich  enough  to  bring  her  home  to 
visit  us,  every  year  or  two,"  cried  Reuben,  whose  heart 
Moreland  had  completely  captivated,  "  and  I  think  him 
good  enough  to  do  it,  if  you  ask  him." 

"  Evil  was  the  day  the  Southern  stranger  came  among 
us,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hastings  sternly,  "if  he  has  made 
all  my  children  aliens  from  their  father's  principles." 

"  You  have  always  encouraged  us,  sir,  to  express 
independent  opinions,"  said  Reuben  manfully.  "  I  must 
acknowledge  that  I  have  a  very  different  opinion  of  the 
South  and  Southern  people,  since  Mr.  Moreland  came 
here.  When  I  am  a  man  I  intend  to  travel  among 
them,  and  judge  for  myself." 

"Really,  young  man,  you  are  mapping  out  a  glorious 


116         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

future,"  exclaimed  his  father,  sarcastically.  "Perhaps 
you  are  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  you  can  pur- 
chase a  plantation,  fill  it  with  live  human  stock,  and 
flourish  your  whip  with  as  much  grace  as  any  other 
lordly  slave-master.  Perhaps  you  have  been  thinking 
the  sacrifice  of  your  sister  a  trifling  thing  in  comparison 
with  your  own  advancement." 

"Father,  you  know  I  am  above  such  meanness,"  cried 
the  youth,  his  keen  black  eye  actually  corruscating  as 
he  spoke;  "besides,  I  do  not  think  my  sister  would  be 
sacrificed  by  marrying  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Moreland. 
If  she  ever  sees  another  like  him  in  this  part  of  the 
world,  it  is  more  than  I  imagine." 

Reuben,  too  much  excited  to  command  his  temper, 
got  up  suddenly  and  left  the  table,  followed  by  the  gen- 
tle reproach  of  his  mother's  eyes.  Mr.  Hastings  seemed 
thunderstruck  at  this  first  outbreak  of  independence  in 
his  son,  whom  he  still  looked  upon  as  a  mere  child, 
bound  to  think  exactly  as  he  thought,  and  to  do  exactly 
as  he  did.  It  was  altogether  an  uncomfortable  meal, 
and  when  Betsy  came  to  clear  away  the  dishes  she  found 
them  nearly  as  full  as  when  she  put  them  on  the  table. 
Shrewd  and  intelligent  as  she  was,  she  had  not  been  un- 
observant of  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  was  not  without 
her  suspicions  of  the  cause  of  Eulalia's  sudden  indispo- 
sition. She  had  reasons  of  her  own  for  wishing  to  see 
her ;  so,  upon  the  pretext  of  bearing  her  a  hot  cup  of 
tea,  she  entered  her  chamber. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         117 

The  lamp  was  placed  upon  the  hearth,  burning  against 
a  back-ground  of  odorous,  fresh  pine  boughs,  that  filled 
with  dark  green  shade  the  place  occupied  in  winter  with 
glowing  flame.  The  bed  on  which  Eulalia  lay  was  in  a 
kind  of  twilight,  and  her  pallid  face  was  hardly  distin- 
guishable from  the  pillow,  save  by  the  dark  framework 
of  her  dishevelled  hair. 

"Here,  Miss  Eula,  is  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  Betsy,  soft- 
ening her  voice  to  its  lowest  key,  and  approaching  the 
bed;  "it  will  do  your  head  good.  I  couldn't  get  along 
no  how  in  the  world,  if  it  wer'n't  for  my  tea  o'nights. 
It  helps  one  mightily." 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Betsy,"  answered  Eulalia,  covering 
her  eyes  with  her  hand,  to  hide  the  moist  and  swollen 
lids.  "  I  shall  be  well  in  the  morning.  Don't  trouble 
yourself  about  me." 

"It's  mighty  strange,"  said  Betsy,  seating  herself 
and  absently  sipping  the  fragrant  beverage  rejected  by 
Eulalia,  "it's  strange  how  it  happened,  but  Mr.  More- 
land's  sick,  too.  While  the  folks  were  at  supper,  I  run 
over  to  Miss  Grimby's  to  borrow  a  handful  of  hops,  and 
they  all  seemed  in  a  powerful  fright.  Albert  was  run- 
ning after  a  doctor,  saying  his  master  was  in  an  awful 
way,  taken  all  of  a  sudden,  or  so." 

Eulalia  started  from  her  pillow  and  leaned  eagerly 
forward,  as  if  to  catch  the  lowest  sound  of  Betsy's  nasal 
tones. 

"Oh!    Betsy,   are  you  sure  this  is   all  true?"  she 


118  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

exclaimed,  pushing  back  her  hair  with  both  hands,  and 
gazing  wistfully  in  her  face. 

"  To  be  sure  it  is  true,  or  I  wouldn't  be  the  one  to 
say  it,"  replied  Betsy,  emphatically. 

Now  Betsy  had  a  habit  of  exaggeration,  in  which  she 
unconsciously  indulged,  and  she  used  the  epithets  power- 
ful and  awful  without  meaning  all  that  the  lexicogra- 
pher attributes  to  them.  "  I  declare,"  continued  she, 
"that  Albert  is  the  lovingest  creatur  I  ever  beheld. 
The  way  he  loves  his  master,  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell, — 
and  I  don't  wonder  at  it,  for  a  nicer  gentleman  never 
came  into  these  parts.  He's  given  away  ever  so  much 
money  to  the  poor,  besides  what  he's  done  to  Nancy. 
It's  well  Albert's  there  to  take  care  of  him.  Mrs. 
Grimby's  got  a  new  gal  to  help  her,  the  awkwardest 
thing  I  ever  set  eyes  on;  and  she's  been  working  so 
hard  lately,  she  looks  herself  as  if  she'd  been  dragged 
through  a  knot-hole." 

While  Betsy's  tongue  ran  on,  with  a  kind  of  railroad 
speed,  Eulalia  had  risen  and  thrown  one  arm  around 
the  bed-post,  against  which  she  stood  leaning.  Her 
heart  had  been  faint  and  sick  before,  under  the  cold 
burden  of  disappointed  hope  ;  now  it  ached  and  throbbed 
with  sudden  anxiety  and  dread.  Moreland  sick,  and 
perhaps  dying,  at  an  inn  !  Had  he  come,  had  he  lin- 
gered only  for  this  ! 

"Does  father  know  of  it?"  she    asked.      "No!    I 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         119 

know  he  does  not.  Tell  him,  Betsy,  and  he  will  go 
and  see  him." 

"  I  expect  there's  not  much  use  in  the  Squire's 
going,"  muttered  Betsy,  "unless  he'll  give  him  the 
right  medicine.  I've  seen  all  that's  been  going  on; 
and,  tho'  I've  no  right  to  say  it,  I'm  desperate  sorry, 
at  the  way  things  have  turned.  He'd  make  you  a 
grand,  good  husband,  and  you'd  live  like  the  lady  you 
was  born  to  be.  As  for  the  stories  they  tell  about 
whipping  and  slashing  the  niggers,  I  don't  believe  a 
word  on't.  Albert  says  they  are  all  lies, — that  he'd  a 
heap  rather  live  there  than  here,  and  be  as  free  as  the 
rest  of  us.  Free! — I  wonder  what  they  call  free?" 
continued  Betsy,  feeling  of  the  knots  and  callouses  of 
her  toil-worn  hands.  "  I  know  I  ain't  free,  or  I  wouldn't 
work,  like  a  pack-horse,  from  one  year's  eend  to  another. 
I'm  obliged  to  woik  to  live,  and  to  make  others  live,  and 
God  knows  I'm  willing ;  but  I  should  like  to  know  what 
rest  and  pleasure  I  have  ?  I  haven't  sot  down  before 
since  I  got  up  this  blessed  morning.  Albert  says  the 
niggers  sing  and  dance  as  much  as  they  please,  when 
their  work  is  done  up.  I  wonder  how  I  would  look 
singing  and  dancing !  Now,  don't  be  angry,  Miss  Euly, 
but  the  Squire's  standing  in  his  own  light  this  time. 
There  ain't  a  lady  in  the  land  but  what  would  envy  you, 
not  one.  You'll  never  get  such  another  chance,  as  sure 
as  you're  born." 

"Betsy"  said  Eulalia,  sinking  down  on  the  bedside, 


120  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

still  embracing  the  post  with  the  clinging  hands,  "  I 
know  you  mean  to  be  kind,  but  you  must  not  talk  in 
that  way.  Please  go  and  tell  father  how  very  sick 
he  is." 

"I'll  tell  him,"  she  answered  reluctantly,  and  slowly 
rising,  with  the  now  empty  cup  in  her  hand,  and  taking 
a  step  or  two  towards  the  door.  "  I'll  tell  him,  though 
it's  no  use.  You  are  as  sick  as  he  is,  I  dare  say.  You 
look  as  white  as  a  ghost,  and  as  limber  as  a  wet  rag. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Miss  Euly,  if  it  will  be  any 
comfort  to  you.  I'll  run  over  to  the  tavern  again,  after 
I've  done  up  all  my  chores,  and  see  how  the  gentleman 
really  is,  and  if  he  needs  watchers  I'll  set  up  with  him 
myself,  for  I  know  nobody  can  beat  me  nussing,  when  I 
try — my  poor  lame  brother  knows  that's  true." 

"  You  are  too  tired,  Betsy.  You  have  been  working 
too  hard ;  but  you  are  a  kind  nurse — I  know  it  well 
myself." 

"Albert  can  spell  me,"  cried  Betsy,  nodding  her  head, 
"  and  if  I  do  set  up  at  night,  it  don't  make  me  lazy  next 
day.  Folks  can  do  with  a  heap  less  sleep  than  they 
think  they  can,  if  they  only  try  it." 

Mrs.  Hastings  entered,  and  Betsy  withdrew,  having 
rested  herself  from  the  toils  of  the  day  by  pouring  into 
Eulalia's  ear  her  affectionate  sympathy. 

Mr.  Hastings  was  really  troubled  when  he  heard  of 
the  illness  of  Moreland,  and  immediately  walked  over  to 
the  inn  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  statement.     Ha 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         121 

found  the  physician  there,  who  talked  professionally  of 
inflammatory  symptoms,  of  a  tendency  of  blood  to  the 
brain,  and  the  necessity  of  perfect  quietude.  He  pro- 
nounced it  a  most  sudden  and  violent  attack,  one  that 
•would  require  great  skill  to  conquer,  and  experience  to 
understand.  Mr.  Hastings  was  not  so  much  alarmed  as 
he  would  have  been,  had  he  not  known  that  almost  all 
the  Doctor's  patients  had  very  violent  and  dangerous 
attacks,  and  that  he  pronounced  their  cure  as  little  short 
of  a  miracle.  Still  he  felt  very  uncomfortable,  and 
walked  homewards  with  slow  and  heavy  steps.  The 
image  of  Eulalia,  when  he  had  told  her  of  the  decree 
which  had  gone  forth ;  the  deadly  pallor  of  her  com- 
plexion ;  the  unutterable  anguish  of  her  glance,  turned 
from  him  to  heaven,  as  if  appealing  to  its  mercy ;  the 
sudden  pressure  of  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  as  if  an 
arrow  were  quivering  there — came  to  him  in  the  dark- 
ness like  accusing  phantoms,  and  would  not  vanish  away. 
The  countenance  of  Moreland,  too,  when  he  asked  him 
"if  that  was  his  unalterable  decision,"  so  pale,  agitated, 
and  stern,  would  rise  before  him,  drawn  only  too  vividly 
on  the  shadows  of  night.  He  could  not  help  asking 
himself,  if  he  were  doing  right  to  separate  those  whom 
God  seemed  to  have  united  by  a  love  so  passing  strong, 
so  transcending  all  he  had  ever  witnessed  in  the  romance 
of  life.  He  questioned  his  own  principles,  his  own 
motives,   and  wondered  if  it  were  really  his  duty  to 


122  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

sacrifice  his  daughter's  happiness  to  his  own  reputation. 
He  seemed  much  less  in  his  own  estimation,  walking 
alone,  under  the  great  dark  dome  of  night,  whose  starry 
hieroglyphics  proclaimed  an  antiquity  deep  as  eternity  ; 
lie  felt  much  less,  we  repeat,  with  these  solemn  influences 
around  him,  than  when  acting  as  the  demagogue  of  a 
party,  and  feeding  on  the  husks  of  popular  applause. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Parsonage !  what  a  sweet,  lovely  spot  it  was ! 
Parsonages  almost  always  are  lovely.  They  are  selected 
with  a  view  to  the  sacred  character  of  the  inmate,  far 
from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  working-day  world, 
with  a  smooth,  green  lawn  stretching  out  in  front,  a  pro- 
fusion of  shade  trees  sheltering  that  green  lawn  from 
the  bronzing  sunbeams,  and  a  pure  white  paling  running 
all  round  it.  Such  was  the  dwelling-place  of  Parson 
Ellery,  as  he  was  called  by  the  country  people,  and  if 
goodness  and  piety  could  consecrate  a  spot,  it  was  indeed 
holy  ground.  But  though  the  good  country  people 
called  him  parson,  he  owned  a  loftier  title,  which  the 
villagers  preferred — Doctor  Ellery,  he  having  been  ho- 
noured with  a  D.  D.,  by  the  faculty  of  a  neighbouring 
university.  Though  now  a  somewhat  aged  man,  he  had 
never  married,  a  circumstance  which  continued  to  excite 
wonder  in  those  who  knew  him  best.  He  had  come 
among  them,  a  stranger,  in  the  meridian  of  his  days, 
and  no  one  knew  the  history  of  his  youthful  life.  He 
was  what  may  emphatically  be  styled  a  man  of  God, 

(123) 


124  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

devoting  himself  to  His  service  with  apostolic  simplicity 
and  evangelical  devotion,  dividing  his  time  between  the 
seclusion  of  the  study,  the  homes  of  the  poor,  and  the 
chambers  of  the  sick  and  the  dying.  He  was  also  a 
man  of  peace,  and  grieved  when  any  jarring  elements 
were  set  in  motion  in  the  heart  of  the  community.  He 
did  all  he  could  to  counteract  the  blind  fanaticism  which 
Mr.  Hastings  had  kindled  and  continued  to  fan  with  his 
fiery  breathings ;  and  in  so  doing,  he  had  excited  in  the 
latter  feelings  of  personal  animosity,  the  more  bitter, 
because  policy  induced  him  to  conceal  them.  He  did 
not  wish  to  appear  at  variance  with  a  man  so  popular 
and  universally  beloved;  therefore  he  smiled  blandly 
upon  him,  was  a  constant  attendant  on  public  worship, 
and  a  respectful  observer  of  all  the  ordinances  of  religion. 
Still,  the  minister  knew  that  Mr.  Hastings  disliked  and 
distrusted  him,  feared  his  influence,  and  did  all  he  could, 
in  secret,  to  weaken  and  undermine  it. 

Though  unmarried,  as  a  most  excellent  and  respecta- 
ble housekeeper  presided  over  his  establishment,  he 
was  visited  by  all  the  matrons  and  maidens  of  the  parish. 
Among  these  none  was  so  welcome  or  beloved  as  Eulalia. 
Hastings.  She  had  grown  up  under  his  eye,  from  a 
lovely  young  child  into  a  still  lovelier  young  woman, 
and,  forgetting  the  lapse  of  time,  she  was  still  to  him 
the  innocent  and  confiding  child,  who  always  seemed  to 
him,  sweet  as  the  rose  of  Sharon  and  fair  as  the  lily  of 
the  valley.      She  it  was,   who   brought  him  the  first 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         125 

flowers  of  spring,  the  first  strawberries  of  summer,  and 
the  first  fruits  of  autumn.  He  had  accustomed  all  the 
children  to  call  him  father,  and  Eulalia  still  addressed 
him  by  that  endearing  name. 

He  was  now  seated  in  his  study,  in  a  large  arm-chair, 
with  a  slab,  covered  with  green  baize  in  front,  which 
served  as  a  table,  and  on  which  paper,  pen,  and  ink 
were  laid.  But  though  the  paraphernalia  of  writing 
was  before  him,  the  pen  lay  idly  by  the  pure  blank  pa- 
per, and  his  hand  supported  on  its  palm,  his  drooping 
head.  He  seemed  lost  in  sad  and  profound  meditation, 
ivhen  a  low,  sweet  voice,  breathing  his  name  at  the  open 
ioor,  roused  him  from  his  deep  revery. 

"Eulalia,  my  child,  come  in." 

"Do  I  intrude,  father?"  It  was  thus  that,  from 
childhood,  she  had  addressed  him,  and  never  did  her 
spirit  cling  with  more  yearning  fondness  and  sacred 
trust  to  all  that  name  implies,  than  at  the  present  mo- 
ment. 

He  answered  by  rising,  taking  her  kindly  by  both 
hands,  leading  her  to  a  seat  near  the  window,  and  taking 
another  near  her.  She  looked  so  pale  and  sad,  so  fair, 
so  delicate,  he  felt  as  if  he  must  place  her  as  he  would 
a  -wilting  flower,  where  the  summer  breeze  could  fan  her. 
She  sat  awhile  in  silence,  but  the  quivering  of  her  lip 
and  the  tears  glittering  on  her  long,  dark,  drooping 
lashes  showed,  more  eloquently  than  words,  the  sorrow 
that  sighed  for  consolation.  The  good  man  knew  all 
143 


126  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

her  history.  It  was  that  on  which  he  was  pondering 
when  she  entered.  He  had  been  bearing  her  in  the 
arms  of  faith  and  prayer,  to  the  mercy  seat  of  heaven ; 
and  when  he  told  her  of  this,  in  gentle,  soothing  words, 
she  bowed  her  head,  and  the  tears  rained  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  Oh  !  dear  father,"  she  cried,  "my  soul  is  oppressed 
with  the  burden  of  its  sorrow.  I  came  to  you  for  com- 
fort and  support.  The  clouds  are  very  dark  around  me. 
You  have  told  me  that  religion  would  sustain  me  in  life's 
saddest  trials ;  but,  oh,  in  vain  I  pray.  I  sink  lower 
and  lower.  Hope,  joy,  and  faith,  all — all  are  leaving 
me." 

"  Ah !  my  child,  you  have  basked  in  sunshine  till  this 
hour,  while  thousands  have  sat  cold  and  weeping  behind 
the  hidings  of  God's  countenance.  I  fear  your  religion 
is  indeed  built  upon  the  sand,  if  the  first  wave  of  suffer- 
ing that  beats  against  it  shakes  it  from  its  foundation. 
The  children  of  God  must  all  pass  through  some  ordeal 
to  prove  their  divine  affiliation.  Some  pass  through  the 
fire,  some  the  flood,  and  some  are  cast  into  the  lion's 
den  of  oppression ;  yet,  strengthened  by  angels,  they 
faint  not,  but  triumph,  and  look  back  upon  every  trial 
as  a  stepping-stone  to  glory  and  happiness." 

"  I  think  I  could  bear  any  suffering  that  affected  me 
alone,"  said  Eulalia,  raising  her  tear-dimmed  eyes  ;  "  but 
to  be  the  cause  of  misery,  sickness,  and  perhaps  death 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  127 

to  others, — there  is  something  so  crushing,  so  terrible 
in  the  thought." 

"  Sickness  and  death  are  the  ministers  of  God," 
replied  the  pastor,  "  and  they  always  stand  ready  to 
do  his  bidding.  The  illness  of  this  unfortunate  stranger 
may  have  been  excited  by  contending  passions,  but  not 
produced.  Change  of  climate,  and  a  thousand  causes 
unknown  to  us,  may  have  brought  about  this  result.  I 
learn  from  his  servant,  that  he  has  had  a  similar  attack, 
and  that  then,  as  now,  his  case  was  considered  hopeless. 
You  have  no  cause  of  self-reproach,  my  child ;  and, 
whatever  be  the  issue,  you  have  nothing  left  but  sub- 
mission." 

"  You  have  seen  him  to-day,  father.  Do  you  indeed 
give  up  all  hope  ?" 

"  No  !  while  an  omnipotent  God  watches  over  him. 
To-night,  I  am  told,  will  be  the  crisis  of  his  malady. 
We  must  pray, — we  must  wrestle  in  prayer  foi^  his 
recovery,  but  always  with  one  reservation,  my  dear 
Eulalia,  "Not  my  will,  but  thine,  0,  God!  be  done." 

"  One  thing,  let  me  ask,  father, — did  he  speak? — did 
he  know  you?" 

"No!  my  child, — he  lies  still,  pale  and  unconscious 
as  the  unbreathing  marble.  His  faithful  slave  stands 
weeping  and  sobbing  by  his  bedside,  an  image  of  the 
truest  and  fondest  affection  I  ever  witnessed.  Friends 
are  waiting  round  him,  ready  to  administer  to  his  suffer- 
ings, when  awakened  to  their  consciousness.     Ba  co«i- 


128  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

forted,  my  daughter, — all  that  man  can  do  has  hcen 
done ;  but  it  is  in  moments  like  these,  man  feels  his 
impotence,  and  can  only  prostrate  himself  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes,  at  the  feet  of  infinite  wisdom  and  mercy." 

"In  your  presence,  I  do  feel  the  possibility  of  sub- 
mission ;  but  I  dare  not  tell  you  all  my  rebellion  and 
despair,  when  there  is  no  one  near  to  soothe  and  sus- 
tain. How  kind,  how  sympathizing  you  are  ! — you, 
who  never  knew  the  tumult  of  earthly  passions.  What 
gentleness  and  tenderness  you  manifest  for  weaknesses 
you  never  felt!" 

The  minister  raised  his  mild  gray  eyes  to  heaven, 
then  turned  them  on  Eulalia  with  an  unutterable  expres- 
sion. There  was  a  sudden  glow,  a  lighting  up  in  them, 
that  sent  a  flash  over  his  brow  and  warmed  with  transient 
colour  his  pallid  cheeks. 

"  Perhaps  the  history  of  passions  subdued,  of  weak- 
nesses overcome,  and  sorrows  endured  and  sanctified 
through  grace,  may  teach  you  how  to  subdue  and  endure 
your  own,"  said  he  in  a  low,  agitated  voice.  Eulalia 
looked  at  him  with  a  countenance  of  the  most  earnest 
interest.  It  glowed  with  the  reflection  of  his  own 
emotions. 

"  Calm  and  passionless  as  you  see  me  now,"  he  added, 
"  nature  moulded  me  out  of  very  strong  and  warring 
elements.  My  father  was  in  affluent  circumstances,  and 
I,  being  an  only  son,  was  indulged  to  an  extent  that  I 
have  never  seen  equalled.     Had  it  not  been  for  the 


TETE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  129 

counterpoising  influence  of  a  pious,  restraining  mother, 
ruy  extravagance  would  have  been  as  boundless  as  my 
means  were  unrestricted.  When  I  became  of  age  my 
mother  died,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  star  of  home 
set  for  ever  behind  her  death-cloud.  I  became  restless 
and  ambitious.  I  longed  for  new  scenes  of  action.  I 
wanted  to  travel,  to  see  more  of  the  world  and  mankind. 
While  in  college  I  had  become  acquainted  with  several 
young  men  from  the  South,  one  of  whom  was  the  inti- 
mate friend  of  my  youth." 

Here  Eulalia  bent  forward  in  an  attitude  of  deeper 
attention. 

"  This  young  man,"  continued  the  minister,  "whose 
name  was  Livingston,  was  a  Virginian,  and  he  had  so 
often  described  his  home  to  me,  in  bright  and  glowing 
colours,  that  I  resolved,  to  visit  it,  and  become  familiar 
by  personal  observation  with  those  manners  and  habits, 
which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  are  so  often  misrepresented 
and  painted  in  the  darkest  and  most  forbidding  colours. 
My  father  gave  his  consent,  and  I  accompanied  my 
friend  over  the  mountains  of  Virginia  to  his  home,  in 
one  of  the  loveliest  valleys  of  the  world.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  greeting  we  received.  Had  I  been  a  son  or 
brother  I  could  not  have  been  more  warmly,  cordially 
welcomed — not  only  by  the  white  family,  from  whom  I 
expected  hospitality  and  kindness,  but  by  the  household 
negroes  and  the  plantation  slaves,  who  constituted  one 
large  community  in  themselves.     I  had  heard  many  a 


130  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

tale  of  the  woes  and  sufferings  of  this  enslaved  race ; 
but  I  looked  in  vain  for  scars  and  stripes  and  chains.  I 
saw  comfortable  cabins  erected  for  their  accommodation, 
comfortable  raiment  and  food  provided  for  therm  They 
went  forth  to  their  labour  with  cheerful  faces,  and  re- 
turned at  night  to  pastime  or  rest,  often  with  the  song 
upon  their  lips.  I  was  not  prepared  for  such  a  state  of 
things,  nor  for  the  kindness  and  familiarity  with  which 
young  Livingston  treated  these  dependants,  who  on  their 
part  seemed  to  adore  their  young  master.  With  the 
recollection  of  these  scenes  still  vivid  in  my  memory,  it 
is  not  strange  that  I  have  mourned  deeply  over  your 
father's  prejudices,  and  the  zeal  he  manifests  in  a  cause 
he  is  only  injuring  by  his  vehemence.  It  is  not  strange 
that  I  should  have  regretted  the  recent  decision  he  has 
made,  and  sought  with  all  my  influence  to  induce  him  to 
change  it." 

"And  have  you  done  so?"  exclaimed  Eulalia.  "Oh  ! 
I  did  not  know.  I  feared  you  might  blame  my  want  of 
filial  submission.  Oh !  bless  you,  sir,  for  this  last,  this 
greatest  kindness." 

"Far  be  it  from  me  to  lessen  your  filial  reverence," 
continued  Doctor  Ellery.  "  Your  father  has  many  vir- 
tues, and,  I  doubt  not,  thinks  he  is  doing  God  service 
by  the  course  he  is  pursuing.  I  wish  I  could  turn  his 
zeal  and  talents  into  a  different  channel ;  but  I  am 
placed  as  a  watch-light  on  the  hill  of  Zion,  and  must 
keep  myself,  as  much  as  possible,  aloof  from  the  storms 


TIIE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  131 

and  strifes  of  contending  parties.  Eulalia,  that  was  a 
happy  home  to  which  young  Livingston  bore  me.  The 
father  was  a  warm-hearted,  hospitable,  genial  gentleman, 
fond  of  hunting  and  fishing,  a  noble  equestrian,  a  Nim- 
rod  in  the  chase  ;  a  kind,  just  master,  an  indulgent 
father,  a  tender,  affectionate  husband.  The  mother,  a 
dignified,  intelligent  lady,  who  looked  well  to  the  ways 
of  her  household,  directing  and  superintending  every- 
thing with  the  eye  of  a  mistress,  yete  never  sacrificing 
one  lady-like  grace  or  accomplishment.  And  the  daugh- 
ter, Emma  Livingston, — "  here  his  voice  faltered,  and 
he  paused.  A  faint  red  began  to  tinge  the  cheek  of 
Eulalia.  A  strong  sympathy  drew  her  still  nearer  her 
evangelical  friend. 

"  Emma  Livingston,"  he  resumed,  "  I  will  not  attempt 
to  describe.  She  had  the  bloom,  the  beauty,  the  gayety, 
and  innocence  of  youth ;  but  a  bloom  so  soft,  a  beauty 
so  winning,  a  gayety  so  tempered  by  modesty,  and  an 
innocence  so  exalted  by  wisdom,  that  her  character  pre- 
sented a  rare  and  lovely  combination.  Eulalia,  you 
have  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  selfishness  and  hard- 
heartedness  of  Southern  females ;  and  so  had  I.  Here 
was  a  young  girl,  an  only  daughter,  brought  up  in  the 
midst  of  attendants,  to  whom  her"  slightest  word  wa3 
law.  You,  my  dear  child  are  not  more  gentle  and  self- 
sacrificing  than  she  was.  You  do  not  speak  more  gently 
to  your  little  sister  than  did  she  to  her  household  slaves. 
I  have  seen  her  lavish  the  tenderest  caresses  on  their 


132  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

little  infants.  I  have  seen  her  hang  in  anxious  watch- 
fulness over  their  sick-beds.  I  have  seen  her  weep  over 
their  humble  graves.  She  taught  them  to  read.  She 
read  the  Bible  to  them  herself,  and  never  seemed  happier 
than  when  administering  to  their  necessities.  Surely 
it  was  not  wrong  to  assimilate  her  to  an  angel  of  light, 
as  she  glided  among  these  sable  beings,  twining  with  the 
roses  of  affection,  their  links  of  bondage.  I  could  dwell 
for  hours  on  those  days  of  love  and  happiness,  for  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  lifted  a  heavy  stone  from  the  fountain  of  me- 
mory, and  that  I  cannot  stay  the  gushing  waters.  For 
years  I  have  not  uttered  her  name ;  and  now, — when 
moved,  by  a  strong  and  holy  impulse  for  your  soul's 
good,  to  break  the  silence  that  has  so  long  closed  over 
my  sorrows, — it  seems  as  if  I  must  breathe  it  alone,  and 
breathe  it  for  ever.  I  was  then  young  and  impassioned, 
and  all  that  youth  and  passion  ever  breathed  of  love,  I 
felt  for  Emma.  I  was  the  beloved  friend  of  her  bro- 
ther, the  favoured  guest  of  her  father, — every  circum- 
stance was  propitious  to  my  wishes.  Her  own  heart 
was  mine.  The  esteem  and  affection  of  her  kindred 
were  mine.  I  wrote  to  my  father,  who  gave  his  cordial 
consent  to  a  union  which  the  gifts  of  fortune  as  well  as 
nature  so  liberally  blessed.  We  were  to  divide  our  time 
between  the  North  and  the  South.  In  the  summer  I 
was  to  bear  my  bride  to  my  native  North.  In  the  win- 
ter we  were  to  return  to  her  beloved  Virginia.  What 
was  wanting,  my  child,  to  complete  my  felicity  ?     No- 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  13o 

thing  but  the  consent  of  Almighty  God  ?  I  did  not  ask 
for  that.  I  dreamed  not  of  its  being  withheld.  Why 
should  I  dream  ?  The  rose  of  health  blushed  on  the 
young  cheek  of  Emma,  and  its  sunbeam  sparkled  in  her 
clear  azure  eye.  Exercise  in  the  open  air  gave  vigour 
to  her  frame  and  elasticity  to  her  step.  She  delighted 
most  in  riding  on  horseback,  as  the  daughters  of  Vir- 
ginia are  wont  to  do.  She  had  her  own  favourite  horse, 
black  and  shining  as  ebony,  which,  though  fleet  and 
spirited  as  the  deer,  seemed  gentle  as  a  lamb.  She 
would  ride  with  her  brother  and  myself  over  mountain 
and  plain,  swift  and  fearless  as  the  eagle.  And  now, 
my  daughter,  I  come  to  that  dark  era  of  my  life,  which 
I  must  hurry  over,  lest  reason  plunge  headlong  in  the 
grave  of  memory.  I  cannot  relate  the  particulars  ;  but, 
once,  during  those  mountain  rides,  just  two  weeks  before 
our  appointed  nuptials,  her  horse  took  fright  and  leaped 
over  a  precipice,  whose  brink — God  of  heaven  ! — was 
covered  with  wild  roses  and  flowering  vines." 

The  minister  rose  and  walked  the  length  of  his  study, 
back  and  forth,  and  back  and  forth,  with  clasped  hands, 
and  eyes  darkened  by  the  memory  of  despair.  Eulalia 
could  not  speak."  She  was  gazing,  in  imagination,  on 
the  mangled  body  of  Emma,  at  the  foot  of  that  awful 
precipice, — on  the  horse  and  the  rider,  both  quivering 
and  bleeding  in  the  agonies  of  death, — on  the  anguish 
of  surviving  friends ;  she  was  dwelling  on  the  appalling 
uncertainty    of    every    earthly   blessing, — the    terrible 


134  the  planter's  northern  eride. 

penalty  love  is  doomed  to  pay  for  its  short  dream  of 
joy, — on  the  sad,  sad  doom  of  mortality ;  she  wept  as 
if  her  heart  would  break, — wept  for  herself,  wept  for 
her  minister,  and  for  all  the  sons  and  daughters  of  hu- 
manity. 

The  sound  of  her  suppressed  sobs  roused  the  minister 
from  his  own  paroxysm  of  grief.  He  resumed  his  seat, 
and  wiped  the  cold  moisture  that  had  gathered  on  his 
brow. 

"I  can  never  tell  you,"  he  added,  "the  anguish  that 
succeeded  the  first  tempest  of  sorrow, — the  despair  that 
brooded  over  my  mind.  For  a  long  time,  I  thought  I 
should  die.  I  prayed  but  to  die,  to  throw  off  the  cold, 
heavy  burthen  of  life.  I  prayed  to  die,  not  because  I 
sighed  for  the  joys  of  heaven,  but  that  I  was  weai-y  of 
the  gloom  of  earth.  I  thought  not  so  much  of  meeting 
the  spirit  of  my  Emma  above,  as  losing  the  remembrance 
of  her  awful  fate  below.  Had  I  then  died,  dark  indeed 
would  have  been  my  doom  ;  but  I  lived  for  repentance, 
for  faith,  and  hope.  One  of  those  blessed  servants  of 
God,  who  are  anointed  for  a  peculiar  mission,  found  me, 
and  dragged  me  up  out  of  the  depths  of  the  abyss  of 
blackness  in  which  my  soul  was  plunged ;  he  poured  oil 
and  balm  into  my  wounds,  bound  them  in  the  swaddling 
bands  which  wrapped  the  babe  of  the  manger,  and  left 
me  not  till  he  had  laid  me  a  weeping  penitent  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross.  Then  a  divine  warmth  penetrated  my 
heart.     I  looked  upon  this  world  only  as  the  dim  vesti- 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  135 

bule  of  a  great  and  glorious  temple,  and  I  said,  '  I  had 
rather  be  a  doorkeeper  in  the  house  of  my  God,  than  to 
dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickedness.'  I  looked  upon  it  as 
a  frail  bridge  over  the  river  of  time :  and  I  said,  '  Let 
me  guide  my  fellow-pilgrims  over  the  tottering  planks 
to  the  beautiful  shores  of  the  promised  land, — that  land 
whose  celestial  beauties  my  eyes  have  been  opened  to 
behold.'  I  said,  '  0,  my  God  !  I  dedicate  myself  to  thee, 
body  and  soul,  in  life  and  death,  for  time  and  eternity.' 
Eulalia,  I  have  been  true,  as  far  as  poor  frail  humanity 
can  be,  to  the  solemn  vows  of  my  great  consecration. 
I  see  now  why  I  was  led  through  such  a  thorny  path. 
My  soul  was  so  wedded  to  earth,  nothing  but  a  mighty 
wrench  could  have  torn  it  from  my  grasp.  It  was  all 
right.  'Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God.'  We  must 
sooner  or  later  obey  this  mandate  ;  if  not  in  the  sorrows 
and  tribulation  of  time,  mid  the  thunders  and  lightnings 
of  eternal  judgment." 

Eulalia  sat  pale  with  awe,  listening  to  the  solemn 
accents  of  the  minister,  and  gazing  on  his  countenance, 
now  flashing  with  a  sublime  fire.  She  felt  humbled  by 
the  selfishness  of  her  grief,  the  rebelliousness  of  her 
will,  the  conviction  she  had  brought  with  her,  that 
"  there  was  no  sorrow  like  unto  her  sorrow." 

"  My  father,"  at  length  she  said,  "I  will  try  to  profit 
by  this  sad  lesson ;  but  pray  for  me,  for  I  am  very 
weak." 

A  short  time  after,  she  rose  to  depart;  but,  after  she 


138  tiie  planter's  northern  bkide. 

had  bidden  adieu,  she  lingered  on  the  threshold,  as  if 
something  still  remained  unuttered. 

"Whatever  be  the  event  of  this  night,"  she  said, 
in  a  faltering  voice,  "  remember,  father,  that  he  is  a 
*  Christian." 

"  To  the  Christian's  God  let  us  commend  him,  in 
faith  and  hope,  and,  above  all,  in  entire  submission ; 
and  should  our  prayers  be  heard,  my  daughter,  as  some- 
thing whispers  that  they  will,  I  believe  Providence  has 
a  mission  for  you  to  perform,  the  way  of  which  will  be 
made  smooth  beneath  your  feet.  You  will  be  a  golden 
link  of  union  between  the  divided  interests  of  humanity, 
and  inherit  the  peculiar  blessing  reserved  for  those  who 
shall  be  called  the  children  of  God." 

Those  prophetic  words  remained  with  Eulalia  and 
strengthened  her  through  that  long,  long,  sleepless 
night. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Poor  Albert !  with  what  faithful  affection,  what  un- 
wearied devotion  and  unutterable  sorrow  did  he  watch 
night  and  day  by  his  sick  and  apparently  dying 
master  !  He  would  not  leave  him,  though  every  kind- 
ness and  attention  was  lavished  upon  the  stranger, 
so  far  from  home  and  friends,  that  compassion  could 
dictate  or  sympathy  impart.  Though  others  watched, 
he  could  not,  would  not  sleep.  The  only  times  he  would 
leave  the  room,  was  when  his  grief  was  wrought  up  to  a 
paroxysm  that  was  perfectly  uncontrollable,  and  he 
feared  to  disturb  the  patient  by  his  bitter  cries.  Then, 
he  would  rush  out  doors,  throw  himself  upon  the  ground, 
and  give  vent  to  the  most  heart-rending  lamentations. 
The  idea  of  his  master's  dying,  and  leaving  him  alone 
in  that  strange  land,  filled  him  with  the  wildest  terror 
as  well  as  the  deepest  anguish.  He  shrunk  with  horror 
from  the  sight  of  Mr.  Hastings,  whom  he  believed  his 
master's  enemy  ;  though  whenever  he  entered  the  cham- 
ber he  watched  him  with  the  keenness  of  the  basilisk. 

(137) 


1S8         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

He  could  not  bear  to  see  him  look  at  his  master,  and 
could  he  have  done  so,  he  would  have  interposed  a 
screen  before  his  pallid  face,  to  save  it  from  the  influ- 
ence of  what  he  fully  believed  to  be  an  evil  eye.  In  the 
architect,  Mr.  Brooks,  who  devoted  every  moment  he 
could  spare  from  professional  labours  to  the  sick-bed  of 
.his  friend,  he  had  the  most  affectionate  confidence,  and 
he  loved  the  good  minister,  who  was  now  his  daily  visiter. 
He  would  watch  their  countenances  with  the  most 
intense  eagerness,  as  if  he  could  read  in  those  solemn 
tablets  the  secret  of  his  master's  fate. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  interest  manifested  by  the 
whole  neighbourhood  in  the  sick  stranger,  whose  hu- 
manity and  courtesy  had  softened  many  a  bitter  preju- 
dice, and  inspired  feelings  of  warm  personal  regard. 
The  charm  of  romance,  which  even  the  most  matter-of- 
fact  beings  appreciate,  gave  an  attraction  to  the  sufferer, 
that  deepened  the  sympathy  he  awakened.  The  story 
of  his  love  for  Eulalia  Hastings,  of  his  rejection  by  her 
father,  of  Eulalia's  own  love  and  sorrow,  were  known 
far  and  near.  Perhaps  Betsy's  garrulous  tongue  had 
told  the  secret;  but  through  whatever  channel  it 
came,  it  had  been  circulated  from  house  to  house,  till  it 
was  the  theme  of  every  tongue.  Various  were  the  com- 
mentaries it  called  forth.  Some  condemned  the  stern 
fanaticism  of  the  father ;  others  praised  him  as  a  glo- 
rious martyr  to  truth  and  humanity.  Eulalia  was  too 
much  beloved  to  be  envied,  save  by  a  jealous  few,  and 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         109 

even  envy  was  transformed  to  pity  in  the  contemplation 
of  her  blighted  hopes. 

Quite  an  affecting  incident  occurred  the  very  evening 
that  Eulalia  visited  the  minister.  Nancy,  who  had  heard 
vith  great  sorrow  of  the  illness  of  her  benefactor,  and 
who  had  for  days  been  confined  to  her  bed,  felt  one  of 
those  sudden  revivals  of  strength  peculiar  to  the  victims 
of  consumption.  She  heard  that  morning  that  the 
Southern  stranger  must  surely  die,  and  she  resolved  to 
see  his  face  again,  before  it  was  hidden  by  the  clods  of 
the  valley.  In  vain  her  poor  old  mother  told  her  she 
was  too  weak,  too  ill  to  go.  She  dragged  her  feeble 
footsteps  to  her  former  home,  stopping  every  now  and 
then  to  rest  by  the  wayside,  and  stooping  to  pick  up  the 
wild  flowers  that  grew  in  her  path,  thinking  they  might 
gladden  the  sick  man's  fading  sight.  When  she  pre- 
sented herself  before  the  landlady,  she  started  as  if  a 
spectral  illusion  were  bewildering  her  senses. 

"Why,  Nancy — where  in  the  world  did  you  come 
from?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Grimby,  giving  her  a  chair  as 
she  spoke,  into  which  the  wearied  creature  sank  breath- 
less and  exhausted. 

"  How  is  the  sick  gentleman?  Is  he  really  going  to 
die?"  was  Nancy's  first  interrogation. 

"So  the  Doctor  says,"  replied  Mrs.  Grimby,  "and 
he  knows  best.  Poor  man !  I  feel  so  sorry  for  him.  It 
is  so  hard  to  be  taken  away,  when  none  of  his  kin  can 
be  near  him.     He's  such  a  kind5i  pleasant  gentleman, 


140         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE, 

one  couldn't  help  liking  him.  Albert,  too,  that  poor 
yellow  boy,  takes  on  so  desperately,  it  is  enough  to  make 
one's  heart  ache  to  hear  him.  I  never  "would  have 
believed  it  if  I  hadn't  seen  it — never  in  this  world.  It 
sometimes  seems  as  if  he  would  go  raving  distracted." 

"  May  I  see  him  ?"  asked  Nancy,  while  a  tear  dropped 
upon  the  wild  flowers  she  held  in  her  poor  emaciated 
hand. 

"  Lord  bless  you  ! — they  won't  let  anybody  but  the 
Doctor  and  the  minister  and  Mr.  Brooks  go  into  the 
room  now.  They  say  it's  the  criticallest  time  of  his 
whole  sickness.  He  don't  take  no  notice  of  anybody  or 
anything ;  but  looks  just  like  a  piece  of  white  marble. 
No,  Nancy,  I  wouldn't  dare  to  let  you  in,  to  save  my 
life." 

"  I'll  just  look  at  him  and  come  out,  without  saying 
one  word,"  pleaded  the  invalid.  "If  he's  going  now  I 
shall  follow  soon — and  I  want  to  see  him  only  once.  I 
got  out  of  my  bed  to  come,  though  mother  tried  hard  to 
keep  me  from  it.  You  don't  know  how  good  he  has  been 
to  us.  He  gave  us  money,  and  what  is  more,  the  kind- 
est words  and  the  most  pitying  looks.  He  doesn't 
despise  the  poor." 

"Yes — he's  been  kind  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Grimby,  and 
her  voice  choked. 

Nancy  hailed  this  symptom  of  sensibility  as  propitious 
to  her  prayer — and  she  pleaded  so  earnestly,  with  her 
large  hollow  eyes  fixed  so  mournfully  on  her,  with  that 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         141 

burning  hectic  spot  on  either  cheek,  that  Mrs.  Grimby 
consented,  on  condition  that  she  should  walk  on  tiptoe, 
stay  but  one  moment,  and  not  open  her  lips  while  she 
remained.  The  affectionate,  grateful  heart  of  the  sick 
girl  swelled  almost  to  bursting  as  she  gazed  on  the  in- 
animate and  altered  countenance  of  her  friend.  Where 
was  the  kind  and  sunny  smile,  the  darkly-beaming 
glance,  the  glow  of  life  and  health,  which  had  so  lately 
lighted  up  their  humble  cottage  and  left  their  bright 
reflection  on  its  gloom  ?  And  Albert,  too,  who  stood  at 
the  bed-head  mute  as  a  statue — how  dim  and  ashy 
looked  his  golden  skin — how  dull  and  melancholy  his 
bright  black  eye ! 

"Come,"  whispered  Mrs.  Grimby,  seeing  Nancy's 
bosom  heave,  and  fearing  the  commencement  of  one  of 
her  racking  coughs.  "Come,  you  must  not  stay  any 
longer." 

Nancy  slid  softly  down  on  one  knee  and  laid  her 
flowers  on  the  pillow,  as  reverently  as  one  scatters  them 
over  the  shrouded  dead ;  then,  rising  and  putting  her 
handkerchief  to  her  face,  left  the  apartment. 

"  Stop,  and  let  me  give  you  a  glass  of  wine  before  you 
go,  Nancy,"  said  the  landlady,  "and  bite  a  piece  of 
cracker  with  it.  You  mustn't  take  on  so.  It's  thd 
Lord's  doing,  and  we  must  all  die  at  last." 

Mrs.  Grimby  felt  very  sorry  for  the  poor  girl,  who 
had  entered  her  service  a  strong,  blooming  maiden. 
She  remembered  how  faithfully  she  had  laboured,  even 
144 


142  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

after  the  clutch  of  the  destroyer  was  on  her.  She  feared 
she  had  let  her  work  too  hard,  that  she  had  not  been  as 
kind  and  considerate  as  she  ought  to  have  been.  She 
feared  she  had  sometimes  spoken  quickly  and  harshly 
to  her,  and  though  she  had  never  spared  herself,  she 
thought  she  ought  to  have  spared  her  more. 

"I  wish  I  could  send  you  home,  Nancy,"  said  she, 
following  her  to  the  door.    "I  do  hate  to  see  you  walk." 

"  Thank  you.  I  don't  mind  walking.  I  won't  forget 
how  kind  you've  been,  Mrs.  Grimby.  I  hope  the  Lord 
will  bless  you  for  it." 

She  did  not  mean  the  wine  and  the  bread,  which  had 
really  strengthened  her  exhausted  frame,  but  the  tran- 
sient glimpse  she  had  given  her  of  the  pale  face  and 
scarcely  breathing  form  she  never  more  expected  to 
behold. 

And  what  did  the  morning  bring  to  the  anxious 
watchers  round  that  still  couch,  over  which  the  shadows 
of  death  seemed  slowly,  darkly  gathering  ?  What  did 
it  bring  to  the  throbbing  heart,  which  had  counted  the 
weary  moments  by  its  own  wild  beatings  ?  It  brought 
hope — hope  born  from  the  bosom  of  despair ;  and  the 
tidings  was  like  a  resurrection  from  the  dead.  As  the 
ninister  had  said,  there  is  hope,  as  long  as  there  is  an 
omnipotent  God  to  watch  over  us. 

The  convalescence  of  the  invalid  was  slow,  but  cheered 
by  so  many  acts  of  kindness,  he  could  not  murmur  at 
his  imprisonment.    As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  be  moved, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        14? 

Doctor  Ellery  insisted  upon  taking  him  to  the  Parson- 
age, where,  in  perfect  quietude,  he  could  wait  his  com 
plete  restoration.  Albert,  whose  joy  was  as  demonstra- 
tive as  his  grief  had  been,  was  enraptured  at  the  change, 
for  he  could  not  hear  a  slamming  door  or  a  resounding 
step  in  the  house,  without  trembling  for  his  master's 
weakened  nerves.  The  change  was  indeed  a  grateful 
one  from  the  bustle  of  an  inn,  to  the  deep  tranquillity 
of  that  pastoral  home.  The  minister  treated  him  with 
even  parental  tenderness ;  and  the  good  housekeeper 
made  for  him  the  nicest  panada,  the  most  delicious  wine 
whey,  and  every  delicacy  medical  wisdom  permitted  the 
invalid  to  taste.  And  Dora,  sweet  little  Dora,  came 
every  day  to  see  him,  laden  with  flowers,  with  which  she 
decorated  his  room,  and  sometimes  playfully  adorned 
the  folds  of  his  dressing-gown.  She  told  him  how  sad 
and  sorry  they  all  were,  when  he  was  so  sick,  and  that 
even  now,  sister  Eula  never  smiled. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  she,  in  a  low,  confiding  tone, 
"  that  I  heard  mamma  talking  to  papa  about  sister  Eula, 
and  she  said  she  was  afraid  she  would  fall  into  a  con- 
sumption. Oh  !  wouldn't  that  be  dreadful  ?  Poor  Nancy 
Brown  has  got  it,  and  don't  she  look  bad?" 

Moreland  felt  icy-cold  shivers  run  through  his  frame. 

"And  what  did  your  papa  say?"  he  asked. 

"  He  didn't  say  nothing  ;  but  put  his  hands  behind 
him,  so,  and  walked  up  and  down,  and  up  and  down, 
just  as  he  always  does   when   anything   pesters   him. 


144  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Then  mamma  said,  if  Eula  was  only  in  the  South,  there 
wouldn't  be  any  danger." 

"Did  your  mother  say  that?  God  bless  her!"  ex- 
claimed Moreland,  drawing  the  little  chatterer  closer  in 
his  arms  ;  "  and  what  did  your  papa  say  then  ?" 

"  He  kept  saying,  '  God  knows,  God  knows,'  and 
went  right  out  of  the  room.  Then  I  saw  mamma  was 
crying,  and  I  went  and  kissed  away  her  tears." 

While  Moreland  listened  to  the  artless  prattle  of  the 
child,  a  new  and  powerful  motive  of  action  was  born 
within  him.  The  proud  spirit  which  had  told  him  never 
to  hazard  a  second  rejection  should  be  subdued.  What 
were  the  hazard  of  a  thousand  rejections  to  Eulalia's 
danger  ?  He  would  snatch  her  from  a  clime  where  the 
damps  of  death  are  so  often  mingled  with  the  soft  dews 
of  night, — he  would  save  her  from  a  doom,  the  very 
thought  of  which  froze  his  veins  with  horror, — if  there 
was  power  in  man  or  help  in  Heaven,  he  would  do  it. 
The  energy  of  his  purpose  gave  him  strength.  He 
rose  and  sought  the  minister ;  he  told  him  all  his  past 
history,  his  present  intentions,  his  future  hopes.  He 
besought  his  influence  and  co-operation,  his  counsels 
and  his  prayers.  All  these  were  promised,  and  they 
were  all  given. 

No  one  knew  what  passed  between  the  minister  and 
Mr.  Hastings ;  but  every  day  the  former  was  seen  to 
visit  the  latter,  and  after  long  private  interviews  they 
would  separate,  with  the  impress  of  deep  thought  on 


V 

Y.JS       'Af 


TIIE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  145 

their  brows.  They  also  took  long  walks  together  in 
sequestered  by-paths,  and  sometimes  they  wandered  to 
the  graveyard,  and,  leaning  on  some  old  gray  tomb- 
stone, would  converse  earnestly  and  gravely  with  each 
other.  The  villagers,  who  were  well  aware  of  the  want 
of  harmony  in  the  sentiments  of  the  two  parties,  won- 
dered at  this  unwonted  communion,  though  many  were 
shrewd  enough  to  divine  the  cause ;  and  they  shook 
their  heads,  and  said  that  the  good  minister  might  talk 
till  every  hair  of  his  head  turned  to  silver,  and  he  never 
would  make  such  an  obstinate  man  as  Squire  Hastings 
change  his  purpose. 

As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  walk  abroad,  Moreland 
called  at  Mr.  Hastings's.  Dora  flew  to  the  gate  to  meet 
him,  almost  wild  with  joy,  and  ushered  him  into  the 
sitting-room,  with  delighted  eagerness. 

"  Mamma,  sister  Eula — here's  Mr.  Moreland  come 
again.     Ain't  you  glad  ?" 

Mrs.  Hastings  came  forward  and  extended  her  hand, 
with  a  most  heartfelt  expression  of  pleasure.  Eulalia, 
too,  while  a  bright  rosy  cloud  swept  over  her  lovely  face, 
suffered  her  hand  to  linger  in  the  greeting  pressure  of 
his,  and  her  eye,  so  soft,  yet  thrilling,  mingled  for  a 
moment  its  glad  rays  with  the  languid  but  now  kindling 
fires  of  his  own.  In  vain  he  assured  them  that  he  dis- 
claimed all  the  privileges  of  an  invalid.  The  easy  chair 
was  brought  forward ;  a  glass  of  sangaree,  rich  with  the 
aroma  of  the  nutmeg,  prepared  for  his  refreshment     P^e 


146  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

was  even  threatened  with  a  pillow,  for  the  repose  of  his 
head,  but  this  he  strenuously  refused.  He  was  forced, 
however,  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  weary  from  his 
walk,  and  that  there  was  much  comfort  in  the  soft  depths 
of  that  "old  arm-chair."  He  looked  very  pale  and 
interesting ;  and  there  was  a  grace  in  his  languor,  more 
attractive  than  the  vigour  of  health. 

He  had  no  reason  to  be  displeased  with  his  reception. 
Mr.  Hastings  came  in  rubbing  his  hands,  with  his  "  very 
happy  to  see  you"  air.  Reuben  shook  his  hand  most 
vehemently,  and  Betsy's  honest  face  shone  upon  him 
through  the  half-opened  door. 

"You  look  a  little  the  worse  for  the  wear,"  said  Mr. 
Hastings.  "  I  am  sorry  to  see  it.  I  fear  you  will  carry 
away  with  you  unfavourable  impressions  of  our  climate." 

"I  had  a  similar  attack  at  home,"  replied  Moreland; 
"so  I  must  think  my  malady  independent  of  the  lati- 
tude where  I  dwell.  I  sometimes  think,"  he  added  with 
a  smile,  "  that  I  might  have  escaped  this  last  infliction 
had  not  the  alarmed  affection  of  my  boy  placed  me  in 
the  hands  of  the  doctor." 

"  I  believe  you  are  free  from  the  scourge  of  our  cli- 
mate— consumption,"  observed  Mr.  Hastings.  "  Your 
mild,  uniform  temperature  is  favourable  to  the  lungs." 

"Yes,"  replied  Moreland,  looking  at  Eulalia,  from 
whose  transparent  complexion  the  rosy  hue  had  faded, 
leaving  it  of  waxen  delicacy.  "  The  frail  and  delicate 
from  other  regions  are  safe  when  they  breathe  our  genial 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         147 

atmosphere.  The  consumptive  sometimes  finds  a  grave 
beneath  our  flowers ;  but  it  is  when  they  come  too  late 
for  restoration." 

Here  a  slight  cough  from  Eulalia  made  Moreland 
start.  He  gazed  long  and  anxiously  upon  her.  She 
was  thinner  than  when  he  first  saw  her — and  so  exqui- 
sitely, so  delicately  fair !  The  faint  blue  meandering 
of  her  temple  veins  was  visible  through  her  alabaster 
skin.  Then  her  eyes  of  such  velvet  softness,  such  lan- 
guishing brightness — had  they  not  the  fatal  beauty  which 
marks  the  victims  of  consumption?  Those  long,  pen- 
sive, dark  lashes — did  they  not  seem  to  weep  over  the 
radiance  doomed  to  an  early  fading?  Eulalia  looked 
up,  and  meeting  his  earnest  gaze,  understood  its  meaning. 

"If  you  were  as  familiar  with  colds,"  she  said,  with 
a  sweet,  assuring  smile,  "as  we  are  here,  you  would 
think  a  cough  of  very  little  consequence." 

"Did  you  ever  read  the  story  in  the  'Diary  of  a  Phy- 
sician,' called  A  Slight  Cold?"  asked  Moreland.  "It  is 
made  of  some  consequence  there." 

"If  you  are  not  too  much  fatigued,"  said  Mr.  Hast- 
ings, rising  with  considerable  embarrassment  of  manner, 
"I  would  like  you  to  walk  into  my  study  with  me  a  few 
moments,  Mr.  Moreland.  You  will  find  an  arm-chair 
there  also,  for  my  wife  has  an  eye  to  my  comfort  as  well 
as  that  of  her  guests." 

Moreland  rose  with  alacrity,  and  obeyed  the  move- 
ment of  the  Philanthropist.     As  he  passed  out  of  the 


148  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

doorway,  lie  saw  Eulalia  cast  a  look  at  her  father  so 
tender  and  beseeching,  he  thought  he  must  be  made  of 
stone  to  resist  the  mute  appeal.  When  they  reached 
the  study,  Mr.  Hastings  went  through  every  possible 
preliminary,  to  retard  the  conversation  he  had  sought. 
He  moved  the  chairs,  the  books  and  papers  on  the  table, 
opened  the  windows,  wiped  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief, and  dusted  the  knees  of  his  pantaloons. 

"Mr.  Moreland,"  said  he,  at  length  seating  himself, 
drawing  a  heavy  volume  towards  him,  and  poising  it 
over  the  table,  "circumstances  have  arisen  since  our  last 
conversation,  which  have  somewhat  modified  the  views 
I  then  expressed.  My  principles  are  unchanged,  my 
views  of  your  Southern  institutions  are  unchanged,  but 
I  am  led  to  believe  that  the  will  of  God  demands  of  me 
a  sacrifice,  and  to  that  will  I  am  constrained  to  bow. 
Do  not  interrupt  me.  I  wish  to  explain  myself,  so  that 
you  may  understand  I  am  not  acting  in  an  inconsistent 
manner.  I  did  not  know,  when  I  conversed  with  you 
last,  the  strength  of  your  attachment  to  my  daughter. 
I  did  not  know  that  her  happiness  was  involved  in  this 
union.  I  find  that  your  hearts  are  drawn  towards  each 
other  in  a  very  strong  and  peculiar  manner ;  and  I  be- 
gin to  see  the  dealings  of  Providence  in  this  dispensation. 
Eulalia  is  a  delicate  child.  I  have  brought  her  up  in 
fear  and  trembling.  In  short,  she  is  a  tropic  flower, 
born  to  be  nurtured  beneath  milder  skies  than  ours.  To 
preserve  her  health,  to  prolong  her  life,  T  am  willing  to 


TITE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  149 

hazard  the  high  social  position  I  at  present  occupy. 
Sir,  I  shall  falsify  myself  to  save  my  daughter.  I  have 
said  in  public  and  in  private,  that  I  would  never  suffer 
wife  or  child  of  mine  to  live  at  the  South,  even  if  I  could 
add  ten  years  to  their  existence ;  and  I  meant  what  I 
said — but  we  are  all  weak  and  fallible.  I  thought  I  had 
more  firmness  ;  but  so  many  counter  influences  have 
been  acting  upon  me !  Your  dangerous  illness  immedi- 
ately following  my  rejection  ;  my  daughter's  fading 
health  ;  the  prayers  of  my  wife ;  the  counsels  of  our 
minister ;  the  opinions  of  my  best  friends,  all  have  ac- 
tuated me  to  revoke  the  decision  I  had  made.  There  is 
another  motive.  You  said  you  looked  upon  yourself  as 
a  missionary,  appointed  by  heaven  for  the  good  of  a  be- 
nighted race.  That  remark  has  had  great  weight  with 
me.  More  than  all  else,  it  has  induced  me  to  sacrifice 
my  daughter." 

"  Call  it  not  a  sacrifice !"  exclaimed  Moreland,  who 
had  waited  with  glowing  impatience  for  the  conclusion 
of  this  long  harangue,  "  call  it  a  gift,  the  most  precious 
gift  of  Heaven,  and  I  bless  you  for  the  bestowal.  Be- 
lieve me,  sir,  you  never  will  repent  this  yielding  of  your 
will  to  the  pleadings  of  affection,  the  urgings  of  reason. 
Eulalia,  I  will  watch  over  and  cherish  her,  as  never  yet 
was  woman  loved  and  cherished.  She  will  be  adored  by 
the  affectionate  community  over  which  she  will  preside. 
Yes !  I  feel  that  her  lot  will  be  a  happy  one.  As  for 
vouy  son,  consider  me  from  this  moment  as  his  elder 


150  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

brother,  the  joint  guardian  of  his  best  interests.  And 
should  your  darling  Dora  ever  need  a  father's  care,  that 
sacred  care  be  mine.  Oh !  sir,  you  have  made  me  a 
very  happy  man ;  I  thank  you,  I  bless  you  for  it.  I 
feel  new  life,  new  health,  flowing  into  my  veins.  Let 
me  go.  I  am  but  half  blest  till  Eulalia  shares  my  joy." 

"No,  no! — I  will  send  her  to  you,"  replied  the 
father,  clearing  his  throat  of  a  strange  huskiness.  lie 
was  softened  by  the  outgushings  of  that  warm,  generous 
heart ;  he  was  pleased  with  himself,  for  the  great  sacri- 
fice he  thought  he  had  made — he  was  exalted  in  his  own 
estimation.  And  now  he  had  actually  passed  the  Rubi-  • 
con  of  his  prejudices,  he  could  not  help  contemplating 
the  worldly  advantages  of  the  union.  It  would  be  a 
fine  thing  for  Reuben  to  have  a  rich,  influential  brother- 
in-law  ;  it  would  be  well,  if  himself  and  Mrs.  Hastings 
should  be  called  away,  to  have  a  fair  and  opulent  home 
for  the  orphan  Dora.  Eulalia,  cradled  in  the  lap  of 
wealth  and  fanned  by  the  fragrant  breezes  of  the  South, 
would  bloom  like  its  wild-wood  blossoms.  Then,  she 
would  go  forth  as  a  missionary,  to  bind  up  the  bleeding 
wounds  and  smarting  stripes  of  the  poor  slaves  (for  he 
had  dwelt  so  long  on  the  picture  his  imagination  had 
drawn,  it  was  an  indelible  reality  to  him), — she  would 
teach  their  darkened  minds  the  way  of  salvation,  and 
draw  them  out  of  their  bondage  and  chains,  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 

These  thoughts  comforted  him,  and  gave  a  benignant 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         151 

expression  to  his  countenance,  as  he  sought  Eulalia, 
which  was  beautiful  to  her  as  the  sunshine  of  heaven. 
She  knew  that  all  her  earthly  happiness  hung  on  the 
issue  of  that  hour.  She  had  waited  in  trembling  appre- 
hension its  close,  hoping,  fearing,  doubting;  and  now 
when  her  father  opened  the  door  and  beckoned  her  to 
him,  with  a  smile,  she  felt  sick  and  giddy  with  the  excess 
of  her  emotion.  She  rose  to  meet  him,  but  seated  her- 
self again,  for  the  room  darkened  around  her. 

"  Come,  my  daughter,"  said  he,  approaching  her,  and 
putting  one  arm  around  her, — "  come  into  the  fresh  air  ; 
it  will  revive  you." 

He  led  her  through  the  garden  path  to  the  door  of  the 
study.  He  was  silent,  preparing  a  speech  for  the  occasion, 
which  would  be  a  striking  display  of  philanthropy  and 
parental  tenderness  combined ;  but  when  he  placed  her 
hand  in  that  of  Moreland,  his  voice  choked,  his  pompous 
declamation  utterly  failed,  and  he  turned  abruptly  and 
left  the  room.  Though  privileged  to  remain,  we  will 
follow  his  example. 

Joy  is  the  best  physician,  after  all.  From  this  hour 
Moreland  gained  strength  and  elasticity.  Eulalia's 
cheek  recovered  its  soft  oval  outline,  and  the  pale 
virgin  rose  once  more  blushed  under  its  transparent 
surface. 

The  rumour  of  the  approaching  wedding  circulated 
through  the  village,  and  there  was  more  than  the  usual 
amount  of  admiration  and  interest.     Mr.  Hastings  found 


152  the  planter's  northern  bribe. 

himself  a  perfect  lion,  and  was  of  course  pleased,  in 
spite  of  his  great  sacrifice. 

"  Well,  Squire,  I  hear  you're  going  to  give  jour 
daughter  to  a  Southerner,  after  all.  How  are  you  going 
to  reconcile  it  to  your  principles  V* 

"  I  am  only  yielding  to  a  higher  power.  Man  pro- 
poses, but  God  disposes.  The  life  of  both  was  at  stake, 
and  had  I  persisted  in  my  first  decision  I  might  be 
arraigned  hereafter  for  the  crime  of  murder.  Besides, 
I  send  my  daughter  forth  as  a  missionary,  just  as  much 
as  if  she  were  bound  for  Burmah  or  Hindostan.  I  trust 
my  friends  will  not  accuse  me  of  inconsistency." 

Thus  his  neighbours  addressed  him,  and  thus  he 
answered.  He  was  establishing  the  reputation  of  a 
martyr.  The  fiery  locks  that  wreathed  his  brow  were 
assuming  the  character  of  a  flaming  crown  of  glory. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Morelakd  sat  in  the  same  seat  lie  had  occupied  many 
Sabbaths  before.  The  same  majestic  anthem  rolled 
round  the  walls  of  the  church,  consecrating  it  for  the 
approach  of  the  minister.  It  was  the  last  Sunday  he 
expected  to  worship  there ;  the  last  Sunday  the  angel 
voice  of  Eulalia  would  mingle  with  her  sister  choristers 
in  hymns  of  praise  and  hosannas  of  adoration.  In  the 
midst  of  the  closing  strains,  when  in  clear,  sweet,  as- 
cending, and  sublime  accents,  she  repeated  the  burden 
of  the  anthem, 

"  When  rolling  years  shall  cease  to  move," 

there  was  a  sudden  trembling  and  faltering,  then  a  pause, 
and  a  silence,  as  if  the  song  of  the  morning  stars  were 
instantaneously  hushed.  Moreland  listened  breathlessly. 
He  thought  he  heard  a  faint  sob  behind  that  green  cur- 
tain— and  his  own  bosom  heaved.  He  began  to  realize 
all  that  Eulalia  was  resigning  for  him ;  the  strength  of 
the  ties  she  was  severing ;  the  dear  and  holy  associations 
she  was  rending  asunder.     Could  he  make  up  to  her  all 

(153) 


154  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

that  she  relinquished  ?  Father,  mother,  brother,  sister, 
pastor,  idolizing  friends,  the  scenes  of  her  happy  child- 
hood, her  sheltered,  peaceful  youth  ?  Yes !  his  love, 
passing  as  it  did  the  love  of  man,  should  indemnify  her 
for  all.  And  in  that  heaven-dedicated  place,  he  made  a 
vow  before  God,  that  her  happiness  should  be  the  first 
aim  of  his  existence. 

Eulalia  sat  behind  the  curtain,  her  face  bowed  on  her 
hands,  which  covered  her  falling  tears.  Her  companions 
respected  her  emotions,  and,  even  after  the  minister  com- 
menced the  solemn  rites  of  the  day,  they  suffered  the 
green  screen  to  remain,  that  concealed  her  from  the 
gaze  of  the  congregation.  Their  own  eyes  glistened, 
when  they  thought  that,  on  another  Sabbath,  that  fair 
form  and  sweet  face  and  celestial  voice  would  be  wanting 
in  the  village  choir. 

Eulalia  sat  behind  the  curtain,  oppressed  with  the 
solemnities  of  the  place,  and  borne  down  by  the  weight 
of  her  own  feelings.  Her  thoughts  wandered  from  the 
past  to  the  future,  forgetful  of  the  purposes  of  the  pre- 
sent hour.  The  minister  seemed  to  be  repeating  in  her 
ear  the  tragic  story  of  his  early  love,  instead  of  the 
mysteries  and  glories  of  revelation.  The  sighing  boughs 
of  the  elms,  as  they  whispered  through  the  windows  of 
the  gallery,  told  her  sweet  histories  of  her  youth,  and 
breathed  a  sad  and  lingering  farewell.  She  was  going 
to  a  land  of  strangers,  to  be  surrounded  by  a  girdle  of 
darkness,  from  which  there  was  no  escape, — where,  she 


the  planter's  northern  bride.  155 

had  learned  to  believe,  the  fires  of  insurrection  were  for 
ever  smouldering.  But  she  was  going  with  Moreland, 
and  the  companionship  of  such  a  being  would  make 
a  Paradise  of  even  the  frozen  regions  of  Nova  Zembla, 
— how  much  more  of  the  beautiful  and  flower-enamelled 
South !  How  unworthy  was  she,  the  humble  village 
maiden,  of  the  love  of  one  so  gifted  and  so  noble  !  Was 
she  indeed  to  become  his  wife,  the  mother  of  his  child  ? 
She,  the  young  and  inexperienced  ?  Like  the  handmaid 
of  the  Lord,  she  pondered  on  all  these  things,  while  the 
deep-toned  voice  of  the  minister  fell  in  grave  and  solemn 
music  on  her  ear.  Forgive  her  wandering  thoughts,  for 
she  is  passing  the  great  crisis  of  her  being.  She  tries 
to  bring  them  home  to  God,  but  in  vain.  She  feels,  in 
imagination,  the  child's  soft  arms  clinging  round  her 
neck,  its  fair  head  cradled  on  her  breast.  She  is  breath- 
ing up  to  Heaven  prayers  for  its  helpless  innocency, — 
prayers  for  wisdom  to  guide,  for  strength  to  guard,  for 
power  to  go  before  it,  in  the  purity  and  light  of  a 
Christian  example.  She  sees  its  tender,  appealing  eyes 
lifted  lovingly  to  her  own.  Are  they  the  eyes  of  More- 
land,  or  of  the  unhappy  Claudia  ?  She  cannot  bear  the 
suggestion.  That  name  always  comes  chillingly  over 
her  glowing  heart.  It  is  not  jealousy,  but  dread.  She 
dreads  to  think  of  one,  who,  once  blessed  with  the  heart 
of  Moreland,  could  cast  away  such  a  gem. 

As  they  wTalked  home   from   church,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hastings  arm  and  arm,  Moreland  by  the  side  of  Eulaiia, 


156  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

with  Dora's  hand  clinging  to  his ;  not  a  word  was  spoken 
by  either,  till  Dora,  as  usual,  broke  the  silence. 

"  What's  the  reason  you  didn't  sing,  sister  Eula —  ? 
and  what's  the  reason  you  don't  talk  any  now  ?  'Tisn't 
a  sin  to  talk  going  home  from  church,  is  it  ?" 

"No,  my  child,"  said  her  father,  turning  round; 
"many  things  are  lawful,  which  are  not  expedient  under 
particular  circumstances." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  !"  cried  Dora. 

"I  mean  that  your  sister  feels  more  like  thinking 
than  talking  just  now,  and  so  we  all  do.  Supposing  you 
try  to  think  of  what  good  Doctor  Ellery  said,  till  we 
reach  home." 

"I  love  to  think  loud,"  replied  the  child.  "What 
good  does  it  do  to  think,  if  we  don't  tell  anybody  of 
it?" 

"  She  is  right,"  said  Mor eland,  in  a  low  voice  to 
Eulalia ;  "  it  is  not  good  to  brood  too  long  over  our  own 
solitary  thoughts.  I  think  I  understand  your  feelings; 
but  if  you  have  one  unexpressed  regret,  if  you  have  one 
wish  concealed,  breathe  it  now,  assured  it  shall  be  grati- 
fied, if  it  be  in  the  power  of  man  to  do  it." 

"  I  have  wept  over  the  blessings  I  am  about  to  resign," 
replied  Eulalia ;  "  for  they  magnify  like  the  sun,  when 
his  parting  rays  shine  upon  us.  But  at  this  moment  I 
regret,  most  of  all,  my  unworthiness  of  the  blessings 
for  which  I  exchange  them." 

Had  Eulalia  been  a  fashionable  belle,  she  never  would 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         157 

have  made  this  meek,  depreciating  speech ;  hut  she  was 
truth,  simplicity,  guilelessness,  and  purity — and  More- 
land  loved  her  all  the  more  for  these  unworldly  attri- 
butes. If  he  did  not  reconcile  her  to  herself,  it  was 
because  the  heart  has  no  rhetoric,  language  no  inspi- 
ration. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  very  simple.  It  was  to  take 
place  on  the  morning  of  their  departure,  without  any 
display,  waiters  or  attendants.  But  though  no  bridal 
pomp  accompanied  her  nuptials,  Eulalia  was  not  suffered 
to  depart  without  the  most  abundant  tokens  of  affection 
and  appreciation.  Gifts  were  showered  upon  her — not 
costly  ones,  such  as  diamonds  and  precious  stones,  but 
heart-tokens  far  more  precious  in  her  estimation.  The 
Sabbath-school  children  whom  she  had  taught  so  faith- 
fully and  lovingly,  brought  her  bouquets  of  flowers  and 
trifles  of  their  own  manufacture.  Even  the  poor,  whom 
her  bounty,  restricted  as  it  was  obliged  to  be,  had  so 
often  relieved ;  and  whom  her  sympathy  and  cares,  which 
were  ever  unlimited,  had  so  often  blessed,  crowded  round 
her  with  their  blessings  and  their  homely  offerings.  One 
poor  woman,  whose  hands  were  half  paralyzed,  gave  her 
an  ironing-holder,  which  she  had  made  of  patchwork 
and  quilted ;  another,  near  eighty  years  of  age,  pre- 
sented her  with  a  comb-case,  framed  of  pasteboard  and 
covered  with  calico,  manufactured  by  her  own  aged  and 
tremulous  fingers.     Very  homely  as  were  these  gifts, 

145 


158  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Eulalia  received  them  with  a  tear  and  a  smile,  and  pro- 
mised to  keep  them  as  long  as  she  lived. 

"  What  shall  I  do,"  said  a  feeble  octogenarian,  wiping 
the  tears  from  her  silver  lashes — "  what  shall  I  do,  when 
you  are  gone  ?  Who  will  read  me  God's  blessed  word, 
and  talk  to  me  so  sweetly  of  a  Saviour's  love  and  the 
joys  laid  up  for  the  righteous  in  Heaven  ?" 

"  Dora  shall  take  my  place.  She  can  read  now  as 
well  as  I  can,  and  in  a  few  years  she  can  talk  to  you  of 
all  these  things,  and  you  will  teach  her  lessons  of  meek- 
ness and  piety,  even  as  you  have  done  to  me." 

"What  shall  I  do,"  exclaimed  a  poor  sick  mother, 
reclining  on  a  couch  of  pain,  by  which  Eulalia  had  oft- 
times  knelt  and  prayed — "when  you  are  gone  so  far 
away  ?  Who  will  love  and  care  for  my  orphan  children 
as  you  have  done  ?  Who  will  teach  them  to  be  good 
and  keep  them  out  of  bad  company  as  you  have  done?" 

*'  My  mother  will  still  be  your  friend,  and  as  Dora 
grows  older  she  will  do  all  that  I  have  done,  and  I  trust 
far  more.  I  am  going  to  leave  her  a  precious  legacy, 
which,  young  as  she  is,  she  will  consider  sacred." 

"It  is  so  hard  to  give  you  up,"  said  another.  "It 
seems  as  if  I  could  be  willing,  Miss  Euly,  if  you  weren't 
going  among  such  awful  people.  But  I  am  so  afraid 
you'll  repent  on't.  You  are  going  to  have  a  fine  hus- 
band, to  be  sure,  and  you'll  ride  in  a  fine  carriage  and 
live  in  a  grand  house,  and  you'll  never  be  obliged  to  wet 
your  fingers'  ends ;  but  the  riches  that  don't  come  right- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         159 

eously  won't  bless  a  body.  I  wouldn't  use  money  that 
was  got  by  selling  a  human  being,  any  more  than  I  would 
take  up  live  coals  out  of  the  chimney  and  eat  'em." 

"  You  need  not  fear  for  me,"  said  Eulalia,  gently.  "  I 
do  not  expect  such  trials  as  that." 

The  evening  before  her  marriage  she  accompanied 
Moreland  to  Dame  Brown's  cottage,  for  Nancy  could 
not  come  to  her.  The  walk  she  took  to  visit  the  appa- 
rently dying  Moreland  had  accelerated  the  progress  of 
her  fatal  malady,  and  she  was  now  confined  to  the  house, 
and  most  of  the  time  to  her  bed.  Albert  had  told  him 
of  that  visit,  and  he  never  recalled  it  without  the  deep- 
est emotion.  Albert,  with  a  delicacy  of  feeling  seldom 
found  in  the  uneducated,  had  picked  up  the  wilted  flow- 
ers she  left  upon  his  pillow,  after  they  had  fallen  under 
the  feet,  and  preserved  them  in  water  till  his  master's 
brightening  vision  could  rest  upon  the  gift. 

"  This  is  very  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  me, 
when  you  have  so  many  friends  to  take  leave  of,"  said 
Nancy,  leaning  forward  with  eagerness  to  greet  her. 
"  And  you  too,  sir,"  she  added,  holding  out  to  Moreland 
her  wasted  and  burning  hand.  "  I  never  expected  to 
see  you  in  this  poor  cabin  again — never;  but  it's  won- 
derful what  the  Lord  can  do  !" 

"  She  looks  dreadful  bad,  don't  she  ?"  asked  Dame 
Brown,  who  sat  in  an  old  arm-chair  by  the  side  of 
Nancy's  bed.     "She  can't  hold  out  much  longer.     She 


1G0        THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

coughs  all  night  long,  and  you  can  hear  her  breathe 
e'enamost  out  of  doors." 

"  I  feel  easier  now,  mother,"  said  she.  "Don't  worry 
them  by  talking  about  what  can't  be  helped.  Every 
pain  helps  me  on  my  journey  home  !  I  shall  soon  be 
there  !     Oh,  yes  !  I  shall  soon  be  there  !" 

She  lifted  up  her  large,  intensely  bright  eyes,  with  a 
smile  that  gleamed  wildly  on  her  sunken  features. 

"You  are  willing  to  die,  Nancy?"  cried  Moreland, 
seeing  that  Eulalia  was  too  much  affected  to  speak,  and 
on  whose  face  she  now  turned  an  eager,  wistful  gaze. 
"  You  are  not  afraid  of  the  sting  of  death  ?  You  look 
upon  Heaven  as  your  everlasting  home?" 

"Oh!  sir,"  she  replied,  solemnly,  "my  Saviour  has 
taken  away  the  sting  of  death,  and  given  me  victory 
over  the  grave.  Why  should  I  fear  to  die  ?  why  should 
I  wish  to  live  ?  I've  struggled  with  poverty  all  my  life, 
and  it  has  been  a  bitter  warfare.  When  I  was  strong 
and  could  labour  for  my  poor  mother,  I  was  willing  to 
work  the  livelong  day,  though  it  seemed  ever  so  long. 
But  I  havn't  had  much  pleasure  in  life,  even  at  the  best, 
for  the  life  of  the  poor  and  toiling  has  many  a  thorn 
and  but  few  roses.  Oh!  sir,"  she  cried,  suddenly  raising 
herself  in  the  bed  and  clasping  her  thin  hands  over  her 
knees,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  are  going  to  take  her  away 
from  here  !  She  might  get  the  consumption,  for  she's  one 
of  the  fair  and  beautiful  ones  that  are  sure  to  be  sin  fried 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         161 

out.  I  used  to  have  round,  blooming  cheeks,  and  the 
people  of  the  tavern  praised  me  for  my  looks." 

One  sigh  to  the  memory  of  her  departed  beauty  con- 
vulsed the  breast  of  the  dying  girl. 

"Yes!"  said  her  mother,  "they  used  to  call  her 
pretty  Nancy.  Her  cheeks  were  as  rosy  as  you  ever 
saw,  and  she  had  pretty  holes  in  them,  when  she 
laughed ;  and  now,  they  are  so  hollow,  and  such  an 
awful  round  red  spot  right  in  the  middle.  Oh  !  Lord  a 
marcy,  what  will  become  of  me  when  she's  gone,  and 
you  not  by  to  comfort  me,  Miss  Euly?" 

"  God  will  take  care  of  you.  God  will  comfort  you," 
said  Eulalia;  "you  will  never  want  for  friends." 

"  Only  to  think,"  said  the  old  woman,  following  the 
lead  of  her  rambling  thoughts,  as  she  looked  from  Eu- 
lalia to  Moreland,  and  forgetting,  for  the  moment,  her 
own  sorrow, — "  only  to  think  of  the  Squire's  letting  you 
go  off  with  a  furrener,  after  making  such  an  ado  about 
the  way  they  carry  on.  I  don't  see  how  he  can  get  over 
his  speeches  and  writings,  and  the  awful  things  he's  told 
the  people  about  the  South  folks.  Well,  well,  I  am 
glad  for  one  account, — Miss  Euly's  going  to  have  a 
kind,  handsome  husband,  if  there  ever  was  one,  and  a 
rich  one ;  and  she'll  do  a  power  of  good  with  her  money. 
I  know  you  can't  be  cruel  to  anybody,  sir ;  and  if  she 
sees  folks  happy  about  you  and  her,  she'd  better  not 
fret  and  worry  about  other  folks.  Do  all  the  good  you 
can,  and  leave  the  rest  to  Providence.     I'm  nothing  but 


162  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

a  poor  old  creature  now,  and  havn't  any  business  to  talk 
and  advise  my  betters ;  but  I  was  reckoned  smart  in  my 
day,  and  sometimes  it  seems  as  if  I  could  see  through  a 
kind  of  loophole,  brighter  than  I  ever  did  before.  I've 
been  thinking  a  mighty  deal  about  these  affairs  since 
you've  come  among  us,  and  have  been  so  good  to  us,  and 
your  yellow  boy  has  brought  us  so  many  nice  things,  and 
Miss  Euly  is  going  off  with  you ;  and  I  know  there's 
been  wrong  said  and  done.  Your  boy  told  us  how 
kindly  you  treated  'em  all,  and  how  they  all  loved  you, 
and  how  everybody  round  you  was  good,  and  didn't 
practise  the  iniquities  they  tell  us  of.  Lord  a  marcy, — 
how  monstrous  difficult  it  is  to  get  at  the  truth!" 

The  good  woman  fairly  paused  for  breath,  and  Nancy 
repeated,  as  she  had  often  done  before, 

"  She  don't  mean  any  harm,  any  more  than  a  child." 

When  Eulalia  rose  to  depart,  Nancy  drew  her  down 
and  whispered  to  her  to  open  the  upper  bureau  drawer 
and  bring  her  a  breast-pin,  fastened  to  a  little  round 
pincushion. — It  was  a  low,  old-fashioned  bureau,  and 
the  breast-pin  was  also  old-fashioned,  being  in  the  form 
of  a  heart,  set  round  with  pearl.  It  had  a  glass  in  the 
centre,  beneath  which  hair  was  intended  to  be  set.  Eu- 
lalia brought  it  to  the  bedside,  well  divining  her  pur- 
pose. 

"And  now,"  said  Nancy,  "please  take  the  scissors 
hanging  by  the  window,  and  cut  off  a  lock  of  my  hair 
and  have  it  put  under  that  glass  when  I  am  dead  and 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         163 

gone,  to  remember  me  by.  The  one  that  gave  me  that 
breast-pin  is  dead,  so  there's  no  harm  in  my  giving  it 
away." 

Moreland  and  Eulalia  exchanged  a  quick  flashing 
glance  of  intelligence.  A  history  of  love  and  fidelity 
was  contained  in  those  few  words.  The  form  of  the 
heart  was  emblematical ;  even  the  pearls  were  significant 
of  the  tears  of  sorrow,  which  had  probably  bedewed  this 
simple  pledge.  It  was  henceforth  sacred  in  Eulalia's 
eyes.  She  took  the  scissors,  and  Nancy,  bending  for- 
ward, shook  down  the  matted  tresses  of  her  long  black 
hair,  once  so  smooth  and  shining.  Eulalia  separated 
one  from  the  rest,  and  attempted  to  sever  it  from  the 
head  it  once  adorned,  but  her  eyes  were  blinded  by 
tears,  and  her  fingers  had  no  strength.  Moreland  took 
the  scissors  gently  from  her  hand,  and  cut  two  locks 
from  the  heavy  mass  that  shaded  the  pillow. 

"One  for  her,  Nancy,  and  one  for  myself." — "Oh! 
sir  I"  exclaimed  Nancy,  bursting  into  tears.  Not  another 
word  was  spoken  before  they  left  the  cottage,  for  the 
hearts  of  all  were  full.  They  knew  that,  in  all  human 
probability,  they  would  not  meet  again,  till  they  met  in 
the  light  of  eternity. 

Moreland  left  with  Mrs.  Hastings  a  sum  for  the  sup- 
port of  Nancy.  If  it  lasted  longer  than  her  life,  it  was 
to  be  given  to  the  poor  and  aged  mother.  Every  token 
of  love  to  Eulalia  was  also  paid  with  usury.    The  patch- 


164  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

work  holder  was  transmuted  into  gold,  and  the  calico 
comb-case  went  through  the  same  chemical  process. 

That  night,  when  Moreland  bade  adieu  to  the  family 
and  turned  his  steps  to  the  parsonage,  Mr.  Hastings 
accompanied  him. 

"I  know  how  it  will  be  in  the  morning,"  said  he. 
"There  will  be  no  time  for  talking  in  the  midst  of 
sad  leave-takings ;  and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  much  to  say. 
As  far  as  you  are  concerned,  I  have  confidence  to  be- 
lieve that  you  will  make  my  daughter  happy ;  but,  when 
I  think  of  the  entire  change  in  her  mode  of  living,  and 
the  peculiar  sensitiveness  of  her  character,  I  have  many 
misgivings.  I  think  she  has  a  remarkable  antipathy  to 
negroes.  I  have  tried  to  conquer  it  in  every  possible 
way,  but  it,  nevertheless,  still  exists." 

"Indeed  !"  cried  Moreland,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  and 
regret.  "How  has  she  manifested  this  unusual  repug- 
nance ?  She  sees  so  few  of  the  race  here,  I  can  hardly 
conceive  how  this  antipathy  could  develop  itself." 

"About  a  year  ago,"  continued  Mr.  Hastings,  "  I  met 
in  my  travels  a  poor  runaway  negro — half-clothed,  half- 
starved,  the  victim  of  an  inhuman  master,  who,  like  the 
persecuted  Son  of  Man,  had  not  literally  where  to  lay 
his  head.  Sir,  I  had  compassion  on  him.  I  looked 
upon  him  as  a  man  and  as  a  brother.  I  took  him  into 
my  carriage,  brought  him  to  my  home,  welcomed  him  to 
my  board  and  my  best  household  cheer.  He  told  me 
the  story  of  his  sufferings  and  wrongs,  and  they  were 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         165 

enough  to  move  the  very  stones  to  cry  out  for  vengeance. 
He  remained  with  me  for  weeks,  and  during  all  that 
time  Eulalia  manifested  a  loathing  so  unnatural  that  it 
distressed  me  beyond  expression.  She  could  not  eat 
seated  at  his  side ;  she  actually  languished  and  sick- 
ened, and  did  not  revive  till  he  left  me." 

"  I  have  heard  the  history  of  your  hospitality  to  that 
vagabond,"  cried  Moreland — and  he  could  not  help 
speaking  in  an  excited  and  indignant  voice — "  and  I 
have  traced  him  from  the  beginning  of  his  infamous 
career.  He  is  a  vile  scoundrel,  who,  having  first  robbed 
and  then  attempted  to  murder  his  master,  fled  and  hid 
himself  from  pursuit  in  the  Dismal  Swamp  of  his  native 
state.  His  whole  story  was  a  lie.  I  am  sorry  your 
compassion  was  called  forth  by  so  unworthy  an  object. 
I  am  sorry  your  hospitality  was  degraded  so  low.  I  do 
not  wonder  that  Eulalia  shrunk  with  horror  from  the 
approach  of  such  a  wretch ;  that  her  intuitive  delicacy 
and  purity  felt  the  contamination  and  withered  under  its 
influence.  Why,  I  am  told  you  were  obliged  to  turn  him 
out  of  doors  for  his  insolence." 

"  Granting  that  I  was  deceived  in  him,  it  does  not 
follow  that  the  principle  upon  which  I  acted  was  wrong. 
I  should  do  the  same  thing,  under  the  same  circum- 
stances. My  fellow  men  shall  never  call  upon  me  in 
vain  for  redress  or  protection." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  utter  that  sentiment,"  ex- 
claimed Moreland ;  "  and  on  its  faith  and  strength  I  call 


li>(5  THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

upon  you,  in  the  name  of  my  Southern  brethren,  for 
redress  and  protection.  Believe  not  all  the  tales  of  the 
vagrants,  who  are  mostly  fugitives  from  justice,  not 
oppression.  In  your  zeal  for  one  portion  of  humanity 
forget  not  the  interests  of  another,  to  which  you  are 
more  closely  allied.  And  one  thing  let  me  tell  you,  sir ; 
if  Eulalia's  happiness  and  life  are  dear  to  your  soul,  if 
you  would  not  arm  the  hand  of  the  assassin,  and  kindle 
the  brand  of  the  incendiary,  suspend  your  fiery  efforts 
in  the  cause  of  emancipation.  You  are  blowing  the 
flames  of  insurrection,  and  no  language  can  convey  the 
faintest  conception  of  the  horrors  that  may  ensue.  You 
know  not  what  you  are  doing.  The  time  will  come  when 
waves  of  blood  may  roll  over  the  land — and  where  will 
Eulalia  be  ?  Can  my  single  arm  hold  her  up  above  the 
crimson  billows,  my  single  breast  shield  her  from  the 
unimaginable  horrors  of  servile  warfare  ?" 

They  had  reached  the  grove  of  the  Parsonage — and 
they  both  stopped  involuntarily  and  gazed  upon  each 
other.  The  moon  at  that  moment  came  out  from  behind 
a  cloud,  and  the  dark  eyes  of  Moreland  flashed  back  its 
resplendent  lustre.  Mr.  Hastings  looked  very  pale  in 
the  silver  light — 

"  1  cannot  expose  my  daughter  to  the  possibility  of 
such  a  fate,"  he  cried.  "  Thank  God,  it  is  not  too 
late  !" 

"Your  word  is  pledged,  and,  as  a  man  of  honour 
you  cannot  retract,"  exclaimed  Moreland,  startled  into 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         1G7 

a  consciousness  of  his  imprudence.  "  I  was  only  lift- 
ing a  warning  voice.  I  was  endeavouring  to  arrest  a 
course  of  action  which  must  inevitably  result  in  ruin.  I 
did  not  intend  to  express  myself  so  strongly.  Indeed, 
so  firm  is  my  reliance  on  the  fidelity  and  affection  of  my 
own  negroes,  I  believe,  if  an  insurrection  really  took 
place,  they  would  die  in  my  defence." 

"  So  every  one  thinks  of  their  own,"  was  the  caustic 
reply.  "  Self-love, — nothing  but  self-love,  Mr.  Moreland. 
This  is  a  serious  view  of  the  subject, — a  very  serious 
view.  I  must  take  time  for  reflection.  The  wedding 
cannot  be  consummated  on  the  morrow." 

"  Good  Heavens!"  cried  Moreland,  "I  never  will  sub- 
mit to  this  wanton  trifling  with  my  hopes  and  affections. 
Why,  it  is  worse  than  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition!" 

At  this  critical  moment,  when  angry  passions  were 
swelling  in  the  bosoms  of  each,  the  slender  but  majestic 
form  of  the  minister  came  gliding,  in  his  student's  robe 
of  flowing  black  silk,  under  the  boughs  of  the  trees,  now 
involved  in  thick  shadows,  now  illuminated  by  the  white 
moonbeams,  and  stood  before  them,  with  his  serene, 
thoughtful  brow,  and  religious-beaming  eyes.  He  had 
heard  their  excited  tones,  and  he  came  to  soothe  and  to 
reconcile.  And  there  he  stood,  talking  with  them  long 
and  earnestly,  regardless  of  the  night-chill  to  which  he 
so  seldom  exposed  himself.  He  spoke  with  the  benig- 
nity of  the  Christian,  blended  with  the  authority  that 
invests  his  divine  office.     He  would  not  suffer  them  to 


1G8  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

separate  till  harmony  was  restored,  promises  renewed, 
and  the  hopes  of  the  morrow  born  anew. 

Eulalia,  in  the  mean  time,  unconscious  of  the  agitating 
interview  between  her  father  and  her  lover,  was  sitting 
a  her  chamber  window,  with  no  light  but  that  of  the 
moonbeams  which  streamed  in  through  the  casement. 
She  had  extinguished  the  candle,  lest  it  should  bear 
witness  to  her  tears ;  but  she  could  not  extinguish  the 
greater  glory  of  the  heavens.  It  gushed  in  through  the 
muslin  curtains,  and  flowed  round  her  as  she  sat  in  her 
loose  white  robes,  making  her  look  like  an  angel  of  light. 
It  flooded  one  side  of  the  bed,  where  little  Dora  lay 
sleeping,  as  tranquilly  as  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as 
parting  in  the  world.  Mrs.  Hastings  had  just  left  the 
apartment,  and  Eulalia  had  been  breathing  out  all  her 
filial  love,  gratitude,  and  sorrow  on  her  breast.  Who 
can  wonder  that  she  wept  the  last  night  she  was  to  sleep 
under  that  dear,  paternal  roof  she  might  never  again 
behold !  Who  can  wonder  that  she  trembled  in  the 
prospect  of  that  long,  long  journey,  when  she  had  never 
travelled  more  than  twenty  miles  from  home  before  ! 

How  she  wished  she  could  live  over  again  her  youth- 
ful years  ;  that  she  might  show  more  love  and  devotion 
and  tenderness  to  her  parents,  more  affection  to  her  bro- 
ther and  sister,  more  consideration  for  all  around  her ! 
How  much  more  she  might  have  done  for  others,  how 
much  less  for  herself ! 

"How  selfish  I  have  been  !"  thought  she  ;  "howab- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         169 

sorbed  in  my  own  thoughts  and  feelings  !  I  might  have 
saved  my  dear  mother  so  many  weary  steps,  if  I  had 
only  thought  of  it.  Poor  Betsy,  too  !  How  hard  she 
has  been  working  for  me  !  I  ought  not  to  have  permit- 
ted it.  I  wish  father  could  afford  to  hire  another  wo- 
man, to  lighten  her  labours.  And  I — I  shall  have  more 
servants  than  I  know  what  to  do  with.  Surely  toil 
divided  among  so  many  cannot  be  so  wearing  as  it  is 
here." 

The  door  slowly  opened,  and  Betsy  stole  in,  shutting 
it  very  softly  behind  her.  She  came  near  the  window 
where  Eulalia  was  sitting,  and  sunk  wearily  on  a  trunk, 
all  packed  and  strapped  for  travelling. 

"  Poor  Betsy  !  how  tired  you  must  be  !"  said  Eulalia, 
and  her  voice,  always  sweet  and  gentle,  never  sounded 
so  sweet  and  gentle  before  to  Betsy's  weary  ears. 

"Yes,  that  I  am,  Miss  Euly;  but  I  thought  I  must 
creep  in  and  see  you  a  few  moments  to-night.  There'll 
be  such  a  bustle  in  the  morning,  I  couldn't  get  in  a  word 
edgeways,  I  know.  I'm  dreadful  sorry  to  lose  you,  but 
I  hope  our  loss  will  be  your  gain.  I  guess  you'll  be 
well  off — a  powerful  sight  better  off  than  the  rest  of  us. 
Your  pa  has  to  scuffle  mightily  to  get  along,  and  if  your 
ma  was  not  the  best  manager  in  the  world,  he  couldn't 
make  the  eends  of  the  year  meet.  I  save  all  I  can, 
gracious  knows,  tho'  I  tries  to  have  everything  in  a  gen- 
teel style.  I  thinks  more  of  the  appearance  of  the  house 
than  Miss  Hastings  does  herself." 


170  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

"Yes,  Betsy,  I  know  how  faithful  and  economical 
you  are,  how  industrious  and  good.  I  shall  feel  happy 
in  thinking  my  mother  has  such  a  helpmate  and  friend. 
Promise  me,  Betsy,  for  my  sake,  that  you  will  not  leave 
her.  I  know  she  never  could  supply  your  place.  I  only 
wish  she  could  afford  to  keep  more  help,  so  that  you 
would  not  have  to  work  so  hard.  But  you  will  have 
less  to  do  when  I  am  gone,  Betsy." 

"No,  that  I  sha'n't,  for  you're  always  helping  me 
about  my  little  chores.  Besides,  it  dont  seem  work, 
what  I  do  for  you.  Your  washing  is  as  easy  as  nothing. 
When  folks  is  sweet-tempered,  like  you,  their  clothes 
just  go  in  and  out  of  the  water,  and  they're  as  nice  as 
a  snow-ball.  As  for  leaving  your  mother,  I  ain't  think- 
ing on  it.  She's  a  good  woman,  and  I  guess  I'm  as 
well  off  here  as  anywhere  else,  as  long  as  I  have  to 
work — and  that  I  shall  have  to  do  as  long  as  I  live. 
Some  helps  is  always  dissatisfied,  grumbling,  and  chang- 
ing about ;  but  I'm  not  of  that  sort.  Some  wants  to  sit 
down  at  the  first  table,  and  primp  up  and  make  believe 
they  are  ladies ;  but  I'm  not  of  that  sort,  either.  You 
don't  know,  Miss  Euly,  what  a  discontented  set  most 
helps  is.  They  never  know  when  they're  well  off,  and 
think  everybody  that  employs  'em  is  beholden  to  'em." 

"  They  are  not  all  so,  Betsy,  I  am  sure.  You  and 
Nancy  are  exceptions — and  many  others  besides.  And 
now,  Betsy,  let  me  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to 
me,  and  forgive  me,  if  I  have  ever  exacted  too  much  of 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE..  171 

you.  I  have  been  thoughtless,  I  know,  but  never  inten- 
tionally unkind." 

Betsy,  whose  heart  was  brimful,  just  ready  to  run 
over,  could  not  stand  this  appeal.  She  bowed  her  head 
lown  into  her  checked  apron  and  wept  aloud. 

"  Don't,  Betsy !"  cried  Eulalia,  putting  her  arm  over 
her  neck,  thus  prostrated  in  grief.  "  You'll  break  my 
heart  if  you  go  on  in  this  way.     Don't!" 

"  You've  allers  been  just  as  good  as  you  could  be,  and 
as  innocent  of  harm  as  a  baby  in  the  cradle.  You 
mustn't  talk  in  that  way  to  me,  Miss  Euly.  It  makes 
me  feel  too  cheap.  I  come  to  tell  you  what  Mr.  More- 
land  done,  and  I  got  to  talking  so  it  clean  went  out  of 
my  head  for  the  time.  I  declare,  if  he  ain't  the  most 
significant  man  that  ever  was  seen  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  To-night,  when  I  was  milking,  under  the  great 
big  appletree  the  cows  love  to  stand  under,  he  come 
along  and  stopped,  and  spoke  to  me  as  chirp  as  a  bird, 
'Betsy,'  says  he,  'here's  a  trifle,  if  you  will  accept  of 
it.  You  sat  up  with  me  when  I  was  sick.  Not  that 
money  could  pay  such  a  service  ;  but  it  may  do  you  some 
good,  and  help  you  to  take  care  of  your  lame  brother.' 
How  in  the  world  did  he  hear  about  that  ?  He  slipped 
this  piece  of  silver  in  my  hand  and  went  off,  'fore  I 
had  time  to  thank  him.  How  much  is  it,  Miss  Euly  ? 
A  quarter,  ain't  it  ?  It  was  kinder  dark  when  I  took  it, 
and  I've  been  too  busy  to  look  at  it  since." 

Eulalia  took  it,  well  knowing  that  Moreland  would  not 


172  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

give  so  small  a  boon,  and  as  the  moonlight  gleamed  upon 
it,  it  gave  back  a  bright,  golden  gleam. 

"  This  is  an  eagle,  Betsy.  It  is  worth  ten  dollars. 
You  might  know  Mr.  Moreland  would  give  you  more 
than  a  quarter,  if  he  gave  you  anything." 

"  Well !  did  you  ever  ?  you  don't  say  so  ?  I  declare 
it  seems  like  robbery  to  take  so  much — most  equal  to 
ten  weeks'  wages.  Really,  it  don't  seem  right  to  keep 
it.  Ain't  he  a  gentleman  ?  I  was  thankful  for  a  little, 
but  so  much  as  this  makes  me  feel  really  queer." 

"Keep  it;  he  is  rich,  and  can  well  afford  it.  It 
makes  him  happier  to  give  than  you  to  receive.  And 
now,  Betsy,  you  are  tired  and  ought  to  go  to  bed. 
You  will  have  to  rise  early,  and  so  will  I.  We  must  all 
be  cheecful  in  the  morning — remember  that,  Betsy.  1 
would  not  sow  in  tears,  though  I  trust  to  reap  in  joy." 

Betsy  retired,  gazing  fondly  through  her  tears  at  the 
golden  eagle,  almost  believing  it  an  optical  illusion — and 
Eulalia  laid  herself  down  by  the  sleeping  Dora,  and 
pressed  her  cheek  against  the  warm  and  glowing  cheek 
pillowed  so  sweetly  there. 

Albert  was  quite  mortified  that  his  master's  wedding 
should  be  such  a  plain  and  matter-of-fact  business.  He 
remembered  the  splendour  of  his  former  marriage, — the 
festal  pomp,  the  crowding  guests,  the  wreathing  gar- 
lands, the  illuminated  halls,  and  the  exhilarating  dance, 
lie  remembered  the  jubilee  among  the  negroes;  the 
cake  and  lemonade  distributed  among  them,  the  music 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         173 

of  the  banjo,  the  muffled  thunders  of  the  tambourine. 
He  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  idea  of  his  master's 
marrying  a  poor  Yankee  girl,  especially  a  daughter  of 
Mr.  Hastings,  for  whom  he  had  conceived  a  supreme 
dislike.  Then,  to  be  married  in  the  morning,  and  start 
right  off  on  a  journey.  Albert  could  not  "  see  one  bit 
of  fun  in  that."  He  did  not  express  his  dissatisfaction: 
but  he  comforted  himself  by  expatiating  to  Betsy  on 
the  splendid  style  in  which  they  had  such  things  got  up 
at  home, — how  many  barbacued  pigs  they  had,  stuffed 
hams  and  roasted  turkeys,  to  say  nothing  of  cakes,  con- 
fectionaries,  and  wines. 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  Betsy,  jealous  of  the  family  dignity, 
"  there  can't  be  any  nicer  cake  than  that,  if  I  did  make 
it,  with  Miss  Hastings's  help,  myself;  that  in  the  middle 
of  the  waiter  is  made  of  loaf  sugar,  and  it's  as  light  as 
a  feather,  and  as  white  as  the  driven  snow.  There 
never  was  nicer  cake  in  this  world,  I  guess." 

Betsy  pointed  to  a  waiter,  which  rejoiced  in  the  bur- 
den of  various  kinds  of  cake,  in  the  centre  of  which 
rose  one,  in  the  form  of  a  pyramid,  covered  with  a  daz- 
zlingly  white  coat  of  icing,  and  crowned  with  a  cluster 
of  white  rosebuds.  This  was  Betsy's  pride  and  glory, — • 
the  bride-cake,  the  dream-cake,  the  cake  of  all  other1 
cakes.  She  looked  at  Albert,  expecting  a  burst  of 
admiration. 

"Is  that  all  the  cake  you're  going  to  have?"  he 
p.s~  xl,  with  a  supercilious  smile.  "  Why,  we  give  more 
146 


174  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

than  that  to  the  niggers.    We've  had  more  than  a  dozen 
cakes  baked  at  once,  a  heap  bigger  than  that." 

"  Well,  you  must  be  the  extravagantest,  wastefullest 
folks  that  ever  lived,"  cried  Betsy,  her  brown  face  red- 
dening with  mortification,  "  that's  all  I  can  say.  What's 
the  use,  I  want  to  know,  of  having  such  a  sight  of 
things,  when  there's  no  company  and  people ;  going 
right  off,  too, — after  breakfast,  besides,  when  folks  have 
eat  all  they  want  to.  Let  alone,"  jerking  the  napkin 
from  his  hand.  "You  needn't  help  me.  You're  too 
smart." 

Albert  laughed,  excessively  amused  at  Betsy's  anger. 
Having  succeeded  in  impressing  her  with  an  exalted 
idea  of  his  aristocratic  mode  of  living,  he  condescended 
to  say,  that  the  cake  looked  very  nice,  what  there  was 
of  it. 
.       "  Talk   about  the  black  folks  at  the  South  having 
j such  a  dreadful  time!"  muttered  Betsy,  half  to  herself 
|  and  half  to  him.     "  I  want  to  know  who  has  an  easier 
.  time  than  this  fellow  ?     If  I  hadn't  more  to  do,  I  should 
get  so  lazy  I'd  want  somebody  to  laugh  for  me.     I'm. 
•  ten  times  more  of  a  slave,  this  minute,  than  you  are, 
land  have  been  all  my  life." 

"  That's  the  truth,  Miss  Betsy.  You'd  better  come 
and  live  with  Mars.  Russell.     'Spose  you  do." 

"I  wish  I  could  go  with  Miss  Euly,"  she  answered, 
with  a  sigh  ;  "but  there's  no  use  in  pining.  The  Lord 
knows  best." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         175 

Brief,  yet  solemn,  was  the  marriage  rite.  The  car- 
riage stood  at  the  door,  which  was  to  bear  them  on  their 
first  day's  journey  to  meet  the  railroad,  the  trunks  were 
strapped  on,  everything  was  ready  for  their  departure, 
before  Doctor  Ellery  pronounced  the  thrilling  words, 
"  that  what  God  had  joined  together  let  no  man  put 
asunder."  Eulalia,  in  a  simple  travelling  dress,  and 
pale  from  suppressed  emotion,  bore  little  resemblance 
to  the  brilliant  and  magnificently  decorated  being  who 
had  once  before  clasped.  Moreland's  plighted  hand  in 
hers ;  but  the  vows  she  pledged  were  pure  and  holy,  to 
be  broken  only  by  death — second  only  to  the  covenant 
that  bound  her  to  her  God.  She  had  taken  her  real 
farewell  of  her  own  family  the  night  before,  and  resolved, 
if  possible,  to  spare  her  parents  the  anguish  of  seeing 
her  weep  at  parting ;  but  when  her  minister  came,  and, 
taking  her  trembling  hand,  blessed  her  and  committed  her 
to  the  keeping  of  her  Heavenly  Father,  with  so  much  ten- 
derness and  affection  and  solemnity ;  borne  down  by  an 
irresistible,  reverential  emotion,  she  knelt  before  him 
and  bowed  her  head  on  his  hand.  Inexpressibly  affect- 
ed, he  bent  down,  imprinted  a  kiss  on  her  fair,  drooping 
brow,  and  left  the  room. 

Albert,  notwithstanding  his  objections  to  the  marriage, 
had  too  chivalrous  a  sense  of  politeness,  not  to  seize  the 
fitting  moment  to  come  forward  and  congratulate  his 
master. 

"Albert,"  said  Moreland,  "I  introduce  you  to  your 


176  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

new  mistress.  You  will  henceforth  devote  yourself  to 
her  service,  with  all  zeal  and  fidelity,  even  as  you  have 
done  to  mine." 

Eulalia  held  out  her  hand,  with  a  countenance  of  such 
angelic  sweetness,  lifting,  at  the  same  time,  such  a 
grateful,  confiding  look  to  Moreland's  face,  that  Albert's 
prejudices  were  quite  melted  away.  He  was  insensibly 
won  by  the  divine  charm  of  goodness,  exalted  by  loveli- 
ness, and  forgot  that  she  was  nothing  but  a  poor  Yan- 
kee girl. 

Dora  was  so  excited  and  mystified  by  all  around  her, 
so  pleased  and  astonished  at  being  dressed  in  her  best 
white  frock,  and  having  cake  to  eat  so  early  in  the 
morning,  that  she  looked  on  in  wondering  silence.  Then, 
she  was  to  ride  with  Reuben,  in  a  one-horse  carriage, 
behind  the  big  carriage,  as  far  as  the  next  town,  a  great 
event  in  her  young  life.  She  got  into  the  vehicle  before 
the  horse  was  fastened  to  it,  she  was  so  afraid  it  would 
start  without  her.  She  did  not  know  yet,  poor  child, 
what  it  was  to  miss  such  a  sister  as  Eula. 

When  Eulalia  took  leave  of  her  parents,  her  face  was 
as  white  as  marble,  one  moment,  the  next,  it  was  flushed 
and  burning.  She  found  herself  in  the  carriage  without 
knowing  how  she  was  placed  there — her  husband  at  her 
side  ;  she  felt  the  motion  of  the  revolving  wheels,  she 
saw  the  sycamore  boughs  wave  towards  her,  then  vanish, 
the  scarlet  berries  of  the  mountain  ash  flash  a  moment, 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE.  177 

and  then  vanish.  She  realized  that  the  home  of  her 
youth  was  forsaken  for  the  stranger's  hearth. 

"Do  not  hold  back  your  tears,  my  Eulalia,"  said  a 
gentle  voice,  while  the  arm  which  was  henceforth  to  be 
her  shield  and  support,  fondly  encircled  her.  "You 
have  wrestled  nobly  with  your  sorrow.  But  think  me 
not  so  selfish  as  to  be  jealous  of  a  daughter's  tenderness, 
gratitude,  and  devotion.  I  feel  the  sacrifice  you  are 
making.    Accept  in  return  the  consecration  of  my  life." 

The  tears  thus  sanctioned,  hallowed  by  an  embrace  so 
tender,  by  soothings  so  kind  and  words  so  endearing, 
flowed  in  a  gentle,  relieving  shower.  The  tension  of  her 
nerves  relaxed,  the  girdle  that  pressed  upon  hei  heart 
loosened,  and  the  morning  twilight  of  joy  stole  od  the 
shadows  of  grief. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  describe  with  minuteness  the 
journey  of  our  Northern  heroine  to  her  Southern  home  ; 
but  some  of  the  impressions  of  so  artless  and  inexperi- 
enced a  traveller  have  a  novelty  and  freshness  that  can- 
not fail  to  inspire  interest.  She  had  never  seen  a  car, 
and  when  she  first  saw  a  train  rushing  towards  the 
depot,  with  the  iron  monster  at  its  head,  belching  fire 
and  smoke  and  screeching  like  a  tortured  demon,  she 
started  as  if  a  fiend  from  the  infernal  regions  was  ap- 
proaching her.  But  when  she  found  herself  borne  along 
with  such  supernatural  velocity ;  when  she  felt  herself 
winged  over  hill  and  dale  with  equal  speed ;  when  trees, 
rocks,  and  buildings  went  racing  by.  at  a  rate  that 
mocked  her  credulity,  she  was  exhilarated,  excited — she 
felt  the  joy  of  motion.  And,  though  the  thundering 
sound  of  the  machinery  drowned  the  accents  she  most 
loved  to  hear,  she  was  seated  at  her  husband's  side — his 
hand  was  clasped  in  hers — his  eye  ever  answered,  with 
assuring  love,  the  timid  glance  of  hers.     She  now  dwelt 

(178) 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  179 

far  less  on  the  memories  of  the  past  than  the  hopes  of 
the  future. 

She  had  never  been  on  board  a  steamboat.  She  had 
never  even  seen  those  eagles  of  the  river,  with  beaks  of 
fire  and  breath  of  smoke,  skimming  the  foaming  waters. 
Born  in  a  little  inland  town,  whose  winding  stream  bore 
no  heavier  vessel  than  the  school-boy's  light  canoe,  and 
confined  by  circumstances  to  one  peculiar  spot,  it  is  not 
strange  she  knew  so  little  of  the  world  beyond.  The 
first  time  she  entered  a  boat  it  was  in  the  night — and  it 
was  in  the  dark  night.  The  river  looked  of  inky  black- 
ness, in  contrast  with  the  blazing  light  proceeding  from 
the  fiery  bowels  of  the  machinery.  The  black  smoke 
rolled  above-in  long,  serpentine  convolutions,  spangled 
with  glittering  red,  while  the  imprisoned  steam  howled 
in  its  iron  tubes.  As  Eulalia  walked  the  narrow  plank 
that  bridged  the  water  between  the  boat  and  the  shore, 
and  which  vibrated  at  every  step  of  her  light  foot,  she 
clung  impulsively  to  the  hand  of  her  husband,  and  dared 
not  cast  her  eye  down  to  the  cold  abyss  below. 

"You  are  but  a  young  traveller,"  said  Moreland, 
smiling  at  her  childlike  apprehensions,  "  but  by  and  by 
you  will  mind  it  no  more  than  rambling  by  moonligh  ■ 
on  your  own  green  lawn." 

As  they  stepped  upon  the  deck,  there  seemed  a  com- 
motion and  a  crowd  that  impeded  their  progress.  A 
man,  bearing  a  torch,  walked  by  the  side  of  half  a  dozen 


180  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

others,  who  seemed  bending  under  the  weight  of  a  heavy 
burthen. 

"Move  one  side,"  said  one  of  them,  "don't  you  see 
there's  a  lady  coming  ?" 

"Who  is  this?"  asked  Moreland,  seeing  that  it  was 
the  body  of  a  man  they  were  bearing,  and  moving  so  as 
to  intercept  Eulalia's  view  of  it. 

"It  is  a  negro,"  answered  one,  "who  fell  into  the 
river  just  now.  The  mate  jumped  in  and  got  him  out, 
but  I  expect  the  poor  fellow  is  drowned.  He  is  a  run- 
away, and  somebody  told  him  his  master  was  behind. 
In  running  over  the  plank  his  foot  slipped,  and  in  he 
went." 

"  He  may  be  resuscitated,"  exclaimed  Moreland.  "I 
once  restored  a  man  to  life,  myself.  Carry  him  on,  and 
I  will  follow  immediately." 

Eulalia,  as  her  husband  almost  carried  her  by,  caught 
one  glimpse  of  the  face,  on  which  the  torchlight  threw 
a  strong,  red  gleam,  and  recognised  the  features  of  the 
gigantic  negro  whom  her  father  had  once  made  his 
guest. 

"Good  heavens  !"  she  cried,  "it  is  Nat,  The  Giant !" 
(By  this  name  he  had  announced  himself,  and  the  villa- 
gers always  added  the  apposition  of  Nat.) 

Sick  and  faint,  she  turned  from  the  dripping  form, 
and  leaned  on  her  husband's  shoulder  for  support. 

"I  must  leave  you  now,"  said  he,  when  they  reached 
the  ladies'  cabin.     "  If  we  succeed  in  resuscitating  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         181 

poor  fellow,  I  will  return  and  tell  you.  I  grieve  for  the 
shock  you  have  received ;  but  let  it  not,  I  entreat  you, 
depress  your  spirits.  Retire  to  your  berth,  and  you 
will  sleep  as  gently  as  if  rocked  in  a  cradle  bed." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night — but  do  not  think 
of  me.  Do  what  you  can  for  the  drowned  man.  Poor 
fellow  !  I  am  not  afraid  of  him  now." 

Eulalia  lingered  at  the  door,  listening  to  the  music  of 
Moreland's  retreating  footsteps,  for  it  was  music  to  the 
dreary  blank  of  her  feelings — then  entered  the  cabin 
with  a  sinking  heart.  Could  she  only  have  sat  up  on 
deck  with  him,  with  nothing  but  the  starless  night 
around  them,  she  would  have  been  happy ;  but  she  felt 
so  strange,  so  very  strange,  so  unaccustomed  to  the  scene 
in  which  she  found  herself,  she  hardly  knew  what  to  do. 
The  berths  were  all  occupied  but  one — an  upper  one, 
which  the  chambermaid  directed  her  to  occupy.  She 
did  not  like  to  commit  herself  to  this  very  smart  and 
independent-looking  girl ;  but  the  idea  of  mounting  so 
lofty  a  couch  was  quite  terrific  to  her.  She  expected  to 
see  some  steps  or  ladder  for  her  accommodation ;  but 
she  discovered  she  must  do  without,  unless  the  angels 
came  down  and  made  her  one,  as  they  did  in  Jacob's 
dream. 

Most  of  the  passengers  were  unawakened  by  the 
bustle  on  deck ;  but  one  old  lady  had  risen  and  was 
seated  in  a  rocking-chair,  which  seesawed  one  way, 
while  the  boat  rocked  another,  in  the  strong  gust  of  the 


182  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTIIERN   BRIDE. 

swelling  'wind.  She  presented  a  very  extraordinary 
figure,  and  had  not  Eulalia's  mind  been  saddened  by  the 
dreadful  accident  which  had  just  occurred,  she  would 
have  found  it  difficult  to  suppress  her  smiles.  A  loose 
wrapper  enveloped  her  person,  and  over  this  a  large 
blanket  shawl  was  pinned,  so  that  the  folds  rose  above 
the  ears,  making  her  appear  as  if  her  head  were  sinking 
out  of  sight.  A  broad  strip  of  flannel  passed  over  the 
top  of  her  head  and  was  pinned  under  her  chin.  As 
her  face  was  very  pale  and  long  and  meagre,  this  band 
gave  her  a  most  shocking  and  corpselike  appearance. 
Eulalia,  disposed  as  she  was  to  view  everything  in  its 
fairest  light,  thought  she  saw  the  Nightmare  embodied 
before  her ;  and  not  knowing  the  lady's  name,  she  iden- 
tified her  by  that  in  her  mind.  She  did  not  like  to  look 
at  her,  though  she  perceived  that  she  was  an  object  of 
intense  scrutiny  herself.  Unwilling  to  retire  till  she  had 
heard  the  tidings  her  husband  had  promised  to  bring 
her,  she  took  a  seat  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the 
formidable  lady,  and  taking  off  her  bonnet,  began  to 
arrange  her  beautiful  but  somewhat  disordered  hair. 

"  This  is  going  to  be  a  stormy  night,"  said  the  Night- 
mare. "  There  isn't  a  star  to  be  seen,  and  the  clouds 
are  as  black  as  charcoal.  Don't  you  see  how  the  boat 
rocks  ?" 

"Does  it  rock  more  than  usual?"  asked  the  ignorant 
Eulalia. 

"Why,  can't  you  tell,  yourself?" 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         183 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  was  ever  in  a  steamboat.  I 
thought  they  always  rocked  in  this  manner." 

"No,  indeed.     You  ain't  much  of  a  traveller,  then." 

"This  is  my  first  journey,  madam." 

"  Indeed  !     Where  did  you  start  from  ?" 

"I  came  from  Massachusetts,  and" — anticipating  the 
next  question — "from  the  town  of ." 

"  How  far  are  you  going  to  travel  ?" 

"As  far  as  Georgia." 

"Ah!  you  are  going  South,  are  you?  Well,  I  am 
sorry  for  you ;  for  a  meaner  country  there  never  was  on 
the  face  of  the  whole  earth.  Are  you  going  to  teach 
school  there?" 

"No,  madam." 

"A  governess  in  a  private  family,  perhaps?" 

"No,  madam,"  answered  Eulalia,  a  mischievous  smile 
playing  on  her  lip. 

"You  are  not  travelling  alone,  are  you?" 

"No,  madam." 

"You  look  too  young  to  be  married !" 

Eulalia  was  silent. 

"  May  I  ask  what  you  are  going  to  the  South  for  ?" 

"For  a  home." 

"  Ah,  poor  thing !  you  are  an  orphan,  I  suppose. 
Take  my  advice,  and  try  to  get  a  living  where  you  are. 
They  are  the  proudest  folks  there  that  ever  lived,  and 
they  look  upon  poor  people  as  no  better  than  white 
negroes.     I  lived  a  year  there  myself,  and  know  what  1 


184  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

am  saying.  I  have  a  daughter  married  in  North  Caro 
lina,  and  I  went  on  to  make  her  a  visit.  Her  husband 
is  not  a  Southern  man  himself.  He  was  born  in  Ver- 
mont ;  but,  when  he  was  quite  young,  he  went  to  the 
South  and  taught  school.  He  made  a  good  deal  of 
money  that  way  (it  is  a  good  place  to  make  money, 
tnere's  no  denying  that), — bought  a  farm  and  some 
negroes,  and  then  came  home  and  married  my  daughter. 
They  had  been  engaged  three  years.  Nothing  would 
do,  but  I  must  come  on  and  see  them,  and  I  was  fool 
enough  to  go." 

"'What  did  you  dislike  so  much?"  asked  Eulalia, 
early  impressions  crowding  on  her  mind. 

"Oh!  everything, —  the  country,  the  people,  their 
way  of  living,  their  style  of  building,  and,  worse  than 
all,  the  lazy,  dirty,  good-for-nothing  negroes  !  They  did 
not  do  as  much  work  in  one  week  as  a  white  servant  will 
accomplish  in  one  day ;  you  have  to  look  after  them  all 
the  time,  and  keep  everything  under  lock  and  key." 

"  They  were  not  unkindly  treated,  then,"  said  Eula- 
lia, "  or  they  would  have  worked  harder,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  They  were  treated  a  great  deal  too  well,  I  think.  1 
went  there,  expecting  to  see  a  great  deal  of  cruelty ;  but 
it  was  not  so,  excepting  now  and  then  I  would  hear  of 
such  a  thing,  but  I  never  saw  it.  My  son-in-law  used  to 
bluster  and  threaten  a  great  deal,  but  his  threats  were 
never  put  in  execution ;  and  my  daughter  was  a  timid, 
inexperienced  thing,  ten  times  more  afraid  of  them  than 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         185 

they  of  her.  I  tried  to  set  matters  right,  while  I  stayed, 
but  they  only  grew  worse.  I  could  not  put  up  with  the 
saucyness  of  the  negroes.  They  would  not  call  me  any- 
thing but  old  mistress,  and  my  daughter  Miss  Lucy,  as 
if  she  was  not  a  married  woman." 

"  Did  your  daughter  seem  very  unhappy  ?" 

"  No !  It  provoked  me  to  see  her  so  contented,  buried 
in  the  pine-woods,  living  in  a  log  cabin,  no  neighbour 
within  a  mile's  distance,  no  visiters,  except  those  who 
came  to  stay  all  day  or  all  night.  To  be  sure,  she  had 
everything  that  was  comfortable  and  plentiful ;  her  hus- 
band is  very  kind,  and  she  thinks  there  is  nobody  like 
him.  She  even  seems  attached  to  the  negroes,  and  says 
she  takes  pleasure  in  providing  for  their  wants." 

"I  thought  you  said  she  was  afraid  of  them.  1 
should  think  that  would  make  her  very  uncomfortable." 

"  She  will  not  acknowledge  it,  though  I  know  she  is, 
by  the  soft  tone  in  which  she  always  speaks  to  them. 
Who  is  that?" 

A  tap  at  the  door  made  Eulalia  spring  from  her 
seat,  for  she  was  sure  it  was  her  husband.  And  so  it 
was.  His  thoughtful,  serious  countenance  suggested 
what  his  lips  confirmed,  their  efforts  were  unavailing. 
Nat  the  Giant  had  indeed  finished  his  wanderings,  and 
was  destined  for  a  gloomier  home  than  the  Dismal 
Swamp  of  Virginia. 

"I  fear  you  may  be  sea-sick,"  he  added;  "for  the 
night  is  very  tempestuous.     I  have  told  Albert  to  bring 


186  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

you  a  glass  of  brandy,  which  is  said  to  be  a  sovereiga 
remedy." 

Eulalia  shook  her  head  and  smiled ;  but  she,  never- 
theless, took  the  glass  from  Albert's  hand,  because 
Moreland  had  prescribed  it,  and  she  would  not  seem 
ungrateful  for  his  soothing  attentions.  She  was  certain 
she  would  not  need  it  herself,  but  perhaps  her  friend  the 
Nightmare  might,  who  was  listening  eagerly  behind  the 
half-open  door. 

"Who  is  that  gentleman?"  asked  she,  when  Eulalia 
returned  into  the  cabin. 

"My  husband,  madam." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  said  you  were  not  married." 

"I  did  not  deny  the  fact." 

"  You  did  not  say  anything,  which  was  the  same 
thing.     Who  was  that  with  him  ?" 

"Albert,  his  servant." 

"His  slave,  you  had  better  say." 

"  His  slave,  then,"  replied  the  weary  young  bride, 
placing  the  glass  on  the  table,  for  the  boat  rocked  so, 
the  dark,  amber  fluid  threatened  to  overflow. 

"  What's  that  in  that  tumbler  ?"  continued  the  perse- 
vering inquisitor,  though  fully  aware  of  its  generous 
contents. 

"  A  remedy  for  sea-sickness,  my  husband  says.  Are 
you  troubled  with  it  ?" 

1  Yes,  dreadfully !  I  have  been  sick  ever  since  the 
wind  began  to  blow,  but  I  never  make  any  complaint. 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  187 

That  is  the  reason  I  left  my  berth,  I  thought  I  should 
feel  better  sitting  up.  Oh  !  mercy,  how  the  boat  pitches, 
I  am  as  sick  as  death." 

Her  lower  jaw  fell  down  so  frightfully,  her  eyes  rolling 
upwards  at  the  same  time,  that  Eulalia  was  alarmed,  and 
hastened  to  offer  her  the  brandy.  She  swallowed  a 
copious  draught,  which  seemed  to  revive  her. 

"I  ought  to  have  diluted  this  with  water,"  said 
Eulalia.  "  You  must  pardon  me,  I  did  not  think  of  it. 
It  must  have  burned  your  throat  very  badly." 

"It  has  more  effect  that  way,"  answered  the  old  lady  ; 
"  and  I  can  bear  anything  better  than  this  awful  sick- 
ness.    Your  husband  is  a  thoughtful  man." 

Eulalia  devoutly  hoped  the  anodyne  would  compose 
her  new  friend  to  sleep,  for  her  own  eyelids  began  to 
be  heavy  from  fatigue.  While  preparing  for  rest,  she 
cast  many  a  glance  at  her  airy  bed,  wondering  how  she 
was  to  attain  so  undesirable  an  elevation;  but  the  diffi- 
culty, like  most  others,  vanished  in  the  act  of  overcoming 
it.  A  light  spring  was  all  that  was  needed,  and  she 
looked  down  in  triumph  on  the  flannel-girdled  head, 
sinking  in  its  dark  recess.  As  she  lay  perfectly  still, 
she  supposed  the  old  lady  imagined  her  asleep,  for,  be- 
fore she  deposited  herself  in  her  own  berth,  she  stole  to 
the  table  and  took  another  portion  of  the  sovereign  re- 
medy. It  was  probably  caused  by  a  sudden  tilt  of  the 
boat,  but  the  last  drop  went  down  her  throat,  and  an 
empty  glass  was  left  upon  the  table. 


188  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"Do  you  feel  worse?"  asked  Eulalia,  thinking  her 
throat  must  be  a  chimney,  to  bear  such  a  fiery  draught, 
and  willing  to  let  her  know  that  she  observed  the  appro- 
priation of  the  fluid. 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  great  deal  worse.  I  don't  think  I  could 
have  lived  till  morning,  if  it  had  not  been  for  this  me- 
dicine. Your  husband  is  a  good  man — a  thoughtful, 
kind-hearted  man.  I  am  grateful  for  his  goodness. 
Oh  !  mercy  !  how  my  head  aches !  I  have  the  rheuma- 
tism in  my  head  terribly.  I  must  have  caught  it  in 
North  Carolina,  for  I  never  had  it  before  I  went  there." 

The  old  lady  continued  to  talk,  till  her  voice  seemed 
to  mingle  with  the  wail  of  the  night-gust,  the  murmur 
of  the  waters,  and  the  heavy  plunging  sound  of  the  en- 
gine, so  monotonous  and  dreary.  Eulalia  could  not 
sleep.  That  large,  black,  dripping  form,  with  glazed, 
half-opened  eyes,  and  mouth  through  which  the  ghastly 
ivory  gleamed,  seemed  lying  before  her,  huge,  cold,  and 
still.  Was  it  not  an  evil  omen,  that  it  should  thus  meet 
her  on  the  very  first  step  of  her  watery  way  ?  More- 
land  had  told  her  the  history  of  his  crimes,  but  the  last 
victim  is  the  one  most  deeply  pitied.  She  tried  to  rid 
herself  of  the  hideous  image  that  haunted  her  couch. 
There  it  lay — a  black,  gigantic  barrier  between  her  and 
the  fair,  flowery  land  to  which  her  bridegroom's  hand 
was  leading  her.  The  excitement  of  her  imagination 
was  owing,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  close,  oppressive 
air  of  the  cabin,  which  was  made  still  more  oppressive 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         189 

by  the  odour  of  the  burning  oil.  Could  she  have  seen 
the  waters  dashing  round  the  paddle  wheels,  and  roaring 
behind  the  boat ;  could  she  have  seen  the  trees  rustling 
and  bowing  in  the  wind,  as  they  went  hurrying  and 
thundering  by,  the  sense  of  sublimity  would  have  ab- 
sorbed that  of  terror;  but  her  inexperience  magnified 
the  rushing  sound  of  the  river,  into  the  wrath  of  whiten- 
ing billows,  and  the  moan  of  the  stormy  night-gust  into 
the  wail  of  the  wrecking  tempest.  At  length,  a  misti- 
ness stole  over  her  mind,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  heard 
low,  soft,  sweet  strains  rising  on  the  rising  blast, 

"Softening  the  raven  down  of  darkness 
Till  it  smiled." 

The  melody,  at  first  indistinct  as  a  mist,  condensed 
into  a  rich  cloud  of  music,  and  then  came  down  in  a 
shower  of  divine  words — words  such  as  often  ascended 
from  her  own  household  shrine,  breathed  by  her  mo- 
ther's gentle  voice  and  Dora's  cherub  lips.  She  fancied 
she  could  hear  them  gliding  in  that  close,  stifling  cabin, 
bringing  messages  of  earthly  and  heavenly  love — 

"  Through  all  the  changing  scenes  of  life, 
In  trouble  and  in  joy, 
The  praises  of  my  God  shall  still 
My  heart  and  tongue  employ." 

"Oh!  how  sweet!  Oh!  how  comforting!"  thought 
Eulalia.  "  Bless  thee,  gentle  mother — thou  art  follow- 
ing in  spirit  thy  wandering  daughter.     Bless  thee,  too, 

147 


190  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

sweet  sister-child !  I  feel  thy  little  arms  entwining 
my  neck — thy  loving  head  nestling  in  my  bosom.  And, 
oh!  I  feel  too  that  a  lore  stronger  even  than  thine,  my 
mother,  or  thine,  my  darling  sister,  is  near  to  protect 
and  bless  me.  And  God  over  all — the  God  of  my 
fathers — the  God  of  my  home.  Let  me  sleep  when  such 
blessings  make  a  golden  guard  around  me." 

And  sweetly,  soundly  did  the  young  traveller  sleep, 
till  the  awakening  day. 

"What  a  change  did  the  morning  sunshine  bring ! 
Eulalia,  with  the  elastic  feelings  of  a  child,  rebounded 
from  despondency  to  rapture.  Leaving  all  her  compa- 
nions still  asleep  in  their  berths,  her  voluble  friend,  the 
old  lady,  fortunately  passive  under  the  influence  of  the 
"sovereign  remedy" — she  stole  on  deck  and  joined  her 
husband  in  a  morning  promenade,  delightful  and  exhi- 
larating beyond  expression.  The  stormy  wind  was  lulled 
into  a  gentle  breeze  that  curled  the  face  of  the  river  into 
ten  thousand  dimples,  and  in  every  dimple  a  silver  sun- 
beam sparkled.  Not  a  solitary  cloud,  not  even  a  white 
one  as  large  as  the  wing  of  a  dove,  flecked  the  blue  of 
the  heavens.  Bright,  clear,  resplendent  they  bent  their 
eternal  arch  above ; — bright,  trembling,  sparkling,  they 
looked  up  from  the  sunlit  depths  below.  All  the  time 
the  boat  went  gliding  onward  with  a  motion  graceful  and 
uniform  as  the  bird's,  whose  pinions  were  cleaving  the 
azure  sky,  and  the  green  shores  smiled  and  the  tall  treea 
bowed  as  they  passed.     Eulalia,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         191 

Moreland,  and  borne  on  without  any  will  of  her  own, 
through  the  most  enchanting  scenery  she  had  ever  wit- 
nessed, felt  the  happiest  of  human  beings.  The  love- 
light  kindled  in  her  eye,  and  coloured  with  a  brighter 
tint  the  pale  rose  of  her  cheek.  That  grand,  that  beau- 
tiful river,  how  it  swelled  in  comparison  with  her  own 
native  stream,  she  had  once  thought  so  broad  and  afflu- 
ent !  How  the  world  enlarged  upon  her  vision  !  How 
her  spirit  amplified  within  her ! 

The  bell  which  summoned  them  to  the  breakfast  table 
opened  upon  her  a  new  and  less  attractive  scene. 
Glancing  along  the  line  of  strange  faces  that  margined 
the  board,  she  recognised  her  old  friend,  who  nodded 
very  familiarly,  and  pushed  forward  to  a  seat  nearly 
opposite.  Instead  of  the  swathing  band  of  flannel,  she 
wore  a  black  silk  kerchief  over  her  head,  the  ends  of 
which  were  fastened  under  her  chin  by  a  large  glass 
breast-pin.  The  white  border  of  a  cap  peered  from 
under  this  gloomy  head-gear,  and  contrasted  as  strongly 
with  the  sallow  hue  of  her  complexion  as  it  did  with  the 
sable  folds  that  so  nearly  shrouded  it.  Near  her,  but 
evidently  having  no  connexion  with  her,  was  a  young 
and  blooming  girl,  whose  bright,  ingenuous  eyes  rested 
on  the  bridal  pair  with  such  undisguised  admiration, 
they  could  not  but  forgive  the  scrutiny,  for  the  sake  of 
the  sentiment  which  inspired  it.  Eulalia's  heart  felt 
drawn  towards  her  by  a  congenial  charm,  and,  by  the 
magnetic  telegraph  which  passes  from  soul  to  soul,  they 


192  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

understood  each  other's  thoughts  and  emotions.  There 
was  a  gentleman  on  her  right,  "whose  thoughts  she  could 
also  read,  and  they  were  not  an  agreeable  study.  He 
had  a  coarse,  vulgar  look,  self-satisfied  and  pompous 
withal ;  satisfied  with  himself  but  at  variance  with  the 
rest  of  the  world.  There  were  two  perpendicular  wrin- 
kles between  his  brows,  and  the  strong  lines  round  his 
mouth  and  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes  denoted  habitual 
discontent.  He  was  well  dressed,  but  that  air  of  unmis- 
takeable  refinement  which  marks  the  gentleman  was 
wanting.  In  the  course  of  the  breakfast,  Albert  came 
in,  and,  standing  behind  his  master,  said  something  to 
him  in  a  very  low,  respectful  tone.  The  eyes  of  the 
bourgeois  gleamed  with  a  peculiar  expression.  They 
fastened  upon  Moreland,  and  perused  his  lineaments  with 
an  insatiable  stare.  They  devoured  the  features  and 
figure  of  the  mulatto,  with  a  kind  of  malicious  curiosity 
mingled  with  triumph.  Moreland  did  not  notice  this 
rude  and  prolonged  gaze,  being  engaged  in  earnest  con- 
versation with  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  met  in  Boston, 
and  whose  intelligence,  liberality,  and  courtesy  had  then 
made  a  deep  impression  on  him ;  but  Eulalia  did,  and 
she  was  sure  Moreland  had  an  enemy  in  this  scowling 
stranger,  though  he  knew  it  not.  She  wanted  to  put 
him  on  his  guard,  but  sought  in  vain  for  the  opportunity. 
The  old  lady,  whose  name  was  Haskell,  fastened  herself 
upon  her  like  the  old  man  of  the  sea,  in  the  cabin,  on 
the  deck,  wherever  she  went.    She  talked  to  her  till  her 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         193 

ears  grew  dizzy  with  the  continuous  buzzing.  For- 
tunately the  effect  of  her  proximity  was  somewhat  neu- 
tralized by  the  companionship  of  the  bright-eyed,  bloom- 
ing girl,  who  beautified,  with  the  garlands  of  her  youth, 
the  hoar  ruins  of  age. 

In  the  mean  time,  Moreland  found  himself  drawn  into 
a  vortex  which  he  vainly  endeavoured  to  shun.  He  dis- 
liked coming  in  collision  with  the  rough  and  ignorant, 
and  for  this  reason  avoided,  as  far  as  was  compatible 
with  politeness,  his  frowning  neighbour  of  the  breakfast 
table.  But  he  would  not  be  avoided ;  he  forced  himself 
into  his  path,  followed  him  into  the  social  hall,  and 
dragged  him  into  the  depths  of  disputation.  Nor  was 
this  all.  It  was  only  preliminary  to  a  direct  personal 
attack,  which  the  high-spirited  Southerner,  driven  to 
the  defensive,  indignantly  repelled. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  man,  who  bore  the  name  of  Horsely, 
"  I  believe  you  are  from  the  South  ?" 

"  I  am." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  Southerners  travelling  North 
now-a-days." 

Moreland  was  silent. 

"  I  should  not  think  they  would  like  coming  into  this 
part  of  the  country  so  well.  They  must  meet  with  a 
great  many  things  that  are  not  agreeable  to  them." 

"  They  do,"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

"I  wonder  they  ever  think  of  bringing  their  slaves 
with  them.     It  seems  to  me  downright  madness.     Sir, 


194  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

there  are  men  'who  think  it  their  duty  to  enlighten  these 
poor,  degraded  beings,  and  let  them  know  what  their 
real  condition  is.  Sir,  I  am  one  of  that  class ;  I  am  no 
hypocrite ;  I  do  nothing  in  the  dark.  I  give  you  fair 
warning.  I  would  tell  your  mulatto  to  his  face,  if  he 
were  present,  that  he  was  a  free  man, — as  free  as  I  am, 
as  free  as  you  are  yourself,  sir,  and  that  you  have  no 
right  to  hold  him  in  bondage." 

"  Tell  him  so,"  replied  Moreland  haughtily.  "  I  am 
not  intimidated  by  such  a  threat.  He  has  been  told  so 
a  hundred  times  already.  He  has  been  told  so  in  the 
city  and  the  country,  in  the  bar-room  and  the  street, — it 
has  been  rung  in  his  ears  with  trumpet-tongues.  He 
has  heard  all  that  you  can  tell  him,  yet  you  may  repeat 
it  a  thousand  times  more,  if  you  will.  He  will  not  leave 
me. 

"  It  seems  that  all  your  slaves  are  not  as  faithful," 
replied  Horsely,  wTith  a  sneer.  "  The  poor  fellow  who 
was  drowned  last  night,  preferred,  it  would  appear,  the 
river's  bed  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  master  from 
whose  pursuit  he  was  fleeing,  and  whose  approach  drove 
him  to  desperation." 

"  Do  you  imply  that  I  had  any  interest  in  that  wretch, 
beyond  what  humanity  inspires  ?" 

"  A  master's  interest,  as  far  as  that  goes.  At  least,  I 
have  been  told  so." 

Moreland's  face  reddened,  but  he  preserved  his  calm- 
ness of  tone. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         195 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir.  I  know  the  master  of  that 
man, — a  kind,  just,  humane  man.  This  negro,  whose 
herculean  strength  was  only  equalled  by  his  dark,  strong 
passions,  was  a  very  dangerous  individual.  For  the 
robbery  and  attempted  murder  of  his  master,  he  fled, 
and  has  long  imposed  upon  the  credulity  of  the  public, 
by  his  false,  demoniac  tales.  He,  who  deserved  the 
hangman's  rope,  has  been  exalted  to  the  honours  of 
martyrdom,  and  all  the  opprobrium  of  his  crimes  trans- 
ferred to  their  innocent  victim." 

"  This  may  be  so,"  cried  Horsely,  with  an  incredulous 
shrug  of  the  shoulders ;  "  but  you  cannot  deny  that 
many  and  many  a  poor  fugitive  slave  has  escaped  from 
cruelty  and  oppression,  to  our  free  and  sheltering  institu- 
tions. These  are  facts  that  stare  you  in  the  face.  You 
cannot  shut  them  out.  The  eyes  of  the  North  are 
opened  to  the  wrongs  of  the  slave,  and  as  sure  as  there 
is  a  God  of  justice  and  mercy,  those  wrongs  will  yet  be 
redressed.  Why,  I  have  heard  stories  told  by  some  of 
these  poor  starving  fugitives  myself,  that  almost  turned 
me  to  stone.  You  do  not  pretend  to  say  they  are  all 
lies  ?" 

"  I  grant  that  some  of  these  tales  of  cruelty  are  true  ; 
for,  that  man  is  sometimes  a  deadly  tyrant,  the  annals 
of  history  too  darkly  prove.  But,  generally  speaking, 
they  are  nothing  but  gross  fabrications,  invented  to 
enlist  the  sympathies  of  credulous  fanatics.  Why,  if  we 
opened  our  homes  and  our  hearts  to  all  the  criminals  and 


196  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

vagrants  of  the  North ;  if  we  enticed  them  by  hopes  of 
gain,  and  bribed  them  by  promises  of  reward,  our  beau- 
tiful South  would  soon  become  a  Botany  Bay,  and  its 
orange  bowers  peopled  with  the  vilest  convicts.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I  saw,  not  many  weeks  since,  in  passing 
Charles's  river  bridge— not  in  the  darkness  of  night,  but 
the  blaze  of  day.  There  was  a  rushing  sound  of  tram- 
pling feet ;  a  dark  cloud  of  men  gathering  and  hurrying 
on  in  the  eagerness  of  pursuit.  A  fugitive  was  borne 
on  before  that  cloud,  as  if  on  the  wings  of  a  mighty 
wind.  He  was  a  white  man.  The  cry  of  "murder" 
rose  from  the  mob  and  rung  over  tho  river.  One  mo- 
ment and  the  fugitive  would  have  been  arrested;  but  he 
vaulted  over  the  railing,  plunged  into  the  water,  and  was 
drowned,  even  like  the  gigantic  felon,  the  responsibility 
of  whose  fate  you  have  been  endeavouring  to  roll  on  me. 
Bid  I  condemn  the  Bostonians  as  a  cruel,  bloodthirsty 
people,  because  the  cry  of  blood  for  blood,  which  rung 
in  the  ears  of  the  first  murderer,  went  up  in  their  midst  ? 
Did  I  attribute  this  crime  to  their  institutions,  or  to  the 
strength  of  man's  unlicensed  passions,  which,  whether 
at  the  North  or  the  South,  scatter  ruin  and  death  in 
their  path  ?  I  heard  of  worse  things  than  this — of  men 
in  the  high  walks  of  life,  butchered  like  the  beasts  of 
the  stall,  mangled  and  cut  up  and  burned,  till  every 
trace  of  the  human  form  was  extinct ;  and  I  did  not 
impute  it  to  the  social  system  to  which  they  belonged, 
but  to  that  spirit  of  man,  which,  when  divorced  from 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         197 

God,  is  given  up  to  the  dominion  of  demons  and  the 
powers  of  darkness.  One  would  suppose,  to  hear  you 
talk,  that  the  North  was  one  wide  garden  of  the  Lord, 
where  nothing  but  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness 
grow — and  the  South  a  howling  wilderness  of  sin  and 
crime  and  pollution." 

'•You  draw  your  own  conclusions,"  said  Horsely, 
knitting  his  brows  with  vexation.  "  I  said  no  such 
thing.  I  do  say,  however,  that  the  North  is  a  peaceable 
country — the  best  country  in  the  world.  Here,  every 
man  attends  to  his  own  business — " 

"Pardon  me,"  interrupted  Moreland;  "there  cer- 
tainly are  some  exceptions." 

Some  of  the  auditors  who  had  gathered  near  to  listen 
to  the  conversation  laughed  aloud  at  liorsely's  discon- 
certed and  angry  countenance.  Looking  fiercely  at  the 
offenders,  he  withdrew,  resolved  to  whet  his  weapons  for 
a  new  conflict.  ^Meeting  with  Albert,  he  gave  vent  to 
his  exasperated  feelings,  lashing  the  master  over  the 
slave's  back~T7  He  told  him  that  he  was  a  fool  to  stay  in 
a  state  of  bondage,  when  freedom  was  in  his  reach ;  that 
he  had  only  to  claim  his  birthright,  and  he  would  find 
himself  surrounded  by  a  body-guard  of  friends  and  sup- 
porters. Albert  laughed,  and  said  that  he  was  as  free 
as  any  one  whom  he  saw — that  he  would  not  change 
places  with  anybody.  He  had  money  enough  and  lei- 
sure enough,  and  the  best  master  that  ever  lived. 

"Can't   catch  this  boy  with  chaff,  master,"  said  the 


108         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

mulatto,  turning  on  his  heel  and  showing  his  white  and 
glittering  teeth. 

Shall  we  follow  our  travellers  wave  by  wave,  till  the 
boat  is  exchanged  for  the  thundering  car,  the  car  again 
for  one  of  the  floating  palaces  of  the  river  ?  $hall  we 
describe  Eulalia's  parting  with  the  garrulous  old  lady 
and  the  rose-cheeked  maiden,  whose  faces  she  never  ex- 
pected to  behold  again,  but  which  would  long  remain  in 
the  picture-gallery  of  memory  ?  Or  shall  we  pass  over 
these  varying  yet  monotonous  scenes,  and  arrive  at  the 
moment  when  the  planter  welcomed  his  Northern  bride 
to  his  home  in  the  dew-dropping  South  ?  One  more 
scene  on  a  boat,  by  way  of  contrast.  A  night  of  moon- 
light gentleness  and  peace,  when  drawing  nearer  ana 
nearer  the  wished-for  haven ;  the  soft,  bland  atmo- 
sphere of  a  Southern  clime  smoothed  and  uncurled  the 
wrinkled  surface  of  the  water,  as  soon  as  the  vessel  had 
ploughed  its  liquid  face.  They  were  on  the  sea — the 
deep,  deep  sea,  and  though  gliding  comparatively  near 
the  coast,  it  was  invisible  to  the  eye,  and  the  view  had 
all  the  boundlessness  and  grandeur  of  the  ocean's  midst. 
Eulalia  sat  on  deck,  by  her  husband's  side,  with  glory 
above  her  and  glory  below,  and  both  the  downward  and 
the  upward  glory  were  reflected  on  her  soul,  making  an 
intense  inward  glory,  which  was  again  reflected  resplen- 
dently  from  her  face.  Gently  rocked  on  the  undulating 
waters,  cradled  on  the  arm  of  Moreland — that  arm  which 
seemed  to  her  as  the  wing  of  an  angel,  protecting  and 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         199 

sheltering  her — bathed  in  that  calm,  celestial  light,  that 
deep,  tranquil,  silver  ocean,  whose  horizon  was  another 
silver  ocean,  distinguishable  only  by  a  kind  of  quiver- 
ing splendour,  fanned  by  a  pure  and  inspiriting  breeze, 
Eulalia  approached  nearer  a  state  of  beatitude  than  she 
had  ever  dreamed  of  attaining.  Oh !  to  be  borne  on 
for  ever  over  those  rippling  diamonds,  thus  companioned, 
soul  linked  to  soul,  heart  bound  to  heart — looking  up  to 
heaven,  seeing  nothing  but  heaven,  earth  only  a  memoiy, 
something  far  off  and  separate — could  there  be  a  Para- 
dise more  holy  and  blissful  ? 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  wanting  to  complete  the  ma- 
gic of  the  scene,"  said  Moreland,  in  a  low  voice,  after 
they  had  gazed  long  and  silently  "on  the  moonlight 
flood,"  "and  that  is  music.  Sing  one  song  or  hymn, 
my  Eulalia,  such  as  I  have  heard  you  sing,  where  the 
shadow  of  the  sycamore  leaves  played  upon  your  brow." 

Eulalia  looked  up  and  smiled,  while  the  moisture 
gathered  in  her  eyes.  She  was  carried  back  to  her 
native  home  ;  she  was  in  the  folding  of  a  mother's  arms  ; 
the  fair  locks  of  Dora  fluttered  against  her  cheek.  She 
sang  one  of  the  sweet  and  simple  songs  of  her  New  Eng- 
land village,  and  her  nightingale  voice  floated  over  the 
waters  and  echoed  from  the  vine-wreathed  bluffs  by 
which  they  were  gliding.  The  passengers  left  the  cabin 
and  drew  softly  near  to  listen.  The  pilot  leaned  over 
the  green  railing  to  drink  in  a  melody,  liquid  as  the 
waves  over  which  it  flowed.     Albert  came  and  stood  be- 


200  the  planter's  northern  eride. 

hind  his  master,  his  bright  though  clingy  face  lighted  up 
with  a  rapturous  expression,  for  the  spirit  of  the  negro 
is  tuned  to  harmony,  and  is  strung  with  chords  which 
vibrate  to  the  breath  of  music. 

"  "Well,  I  never  heard  anything  that  could  beat  that," 
cried  he,  making  a  long  and  audible  inhalation,  after  the 
songstress  paused,  blushing  at  the  notice  she  had  at- 
tracted. "Netty  sings  mighty  sweet,  but  she  can't 
come  up  to  that,  no  way  she  can  fix  it !" 

"  And  who  is  Netty  ?"  asked  Eulalia,  not  insensible 
to  this  tribute  of  admiration,  however  humble. 

"  It's  a  yellow  girl,  that  waits  in  the  house,  mistress," 
replied  Albert,  with  an  air  of  consciousness,  which 
brought  a  smile  to  his  master's  face.  "  She  goes  sing- 
ing about  her  work  like  a  bird,  and  we  can  all  work 
better  to  hear  her — and  she,  herself,  too." 

"  You  must  know,"  said  Moreland,  "  that  Netty  is  the 
object  of  Albert's  especial  admiration.  To  pay  her  for 
her  singing,  he  serenades  her  on  the  banjo,  and  some- 
times puts  in  a  flourish  of  the  tambourine.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  we  had  a  wedding  one  of  these  days,  and 
then  you  will  see  how  finely  we  get  up  these  things  at 
the  South." 

"Now,  Mars.  Russell,"  exclaimed  Albert,  putting 
his  red  silk  handkerchief  to  his  face,  "you  knoAV  you 
say  what  you  please.  Miss  Eulaly  see  for  herself, 
bimeby." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Netty  and  all  the  servants," 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         201 

said  Eulalia,  a  shade  of  thought  passing  over  her  brow. 
Then  turning  to  Moreland,  she  added — "  I  fear  I  shall 
make  a  poor,  inefficient  mistress.  I  shall  look  to  you 
for  instruction  and  guidance.  Though  timid  and  inex- 
perienced, you  will  find  me,  I  trust,  teachable  and  will- 
ing to  be  instructed." 

Albert,  obeying  his  master's  glance,  retired,  and  was 
soon  stretched  on  the  hurricane  deck,  looking  up  stead- 
fastly at  the  moon,  and  wondering  if  Netty  were  not 
looking  at  the  same  object. 

"  I  have  no  misgivings  for  them,"  answered  More- 
land  ;  "  they  will  adore  you  as  a  mistress,  and  rejoice 
under  your  firm,  yet  gentle  sway.  You  have  every 
attribute  to  win  their  admiration,  as  well  as  their  love. 
The  negro  has  an  intense  appreciation  of  beauty  and' 
grace,  and  feels  the  influence  of  mental  superiority.  I 
know  you  better  than  you  know  yourself,  my  too  self- 
distrusting  bride.  There  is  a  greal  deal  of  latent  energy 
reposing  under  those  downy  flakes  of  gentleness,  and 
should  occasion  require,  it  will  wake  and  astonish  your- 
self by  its  power.     I  fear  but  one  thing." 

"And  what  is  that?"  asked  Eulalia. 

"  Your  own  repugnance  to  the  African  race.  You 
must  struggle  with  this  from  the  first,  and  it  will  surely 
be  overcome.  It  is  of  unnatural  birth — born  of  preju- 
dice and  circumstance.  The  few  specimens  you  have 
seen  of  the  negroes  have  been  of  the  most  repulsive 
kind.     It  is   certainly  a  strong  argument  in  favour  of 


202  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

their  condition  at  the  South,  that  the  free  negro  is  gen- 
erally far  more  degraded,  more  low  in  the  scale  of  being, 
than  the  slave.  The  air  of  freedom,  which  gives  luxu- 
riant growth  to  his  vices,  does  not  foster  his  peculiar 
virtues.  His  social  character  degenerates.  The  philan- 
thropists who  interest  themselves  so  much  in  his  destiny 
at  home,  leave  him  to  his  own  resources  when  brought 
within  the  sphere  of  their  assistance.  They  will  not 
hold  social  communion  with  one  on  whom  God  has 
affixed  the  seal  of  a  darker  dispensation.  At  a  distance, 
they  stretch  out  their  arms,  and  call  him  brother,  and 
exclaim,  '  Are  we  not  the  children  of  the  same  Father  V 
but  when  near,  they  forget  the  ties  of  consanguinity, 
and  stand  back  with  a  holier  than  thou  written  on  their 
brows." 

"My  father  doth  not  so,"  said  Eulalia,  with  earnest- 
ness ;  "  he  took  one  of  these  wandering  Parias  by  the 
hand,  and,  making  no  distinction  of  colour,  treated  him 
as  a  companion  and  friend.  I  tried  to  imitate  his  ex- 
ample, for  I  believed  it  my  duty ;  but  I  cannot  express 
the  abhorrence  I  felt,  the  struggle  of  principle  with 
inclination." 

'•And  how  was  your  father's  kindness  repaid?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  "with  insolence  and  ingratitude. 
When  we  ascertained  his  true  character,  I  was  glad  to 
believe  that  it  was  an  instinctive  horror  of  vice  which  I 
felt,  instead  of  a  loathing  for  his  kind." 

"  My  dear  Eulalia,  God  never  intended  that  you  and 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        203 

I  should  live  on  equal  terms  with  the  African.  He  has 
created  a  harrier  between  his  race  and  ours,  which  no 
one  can  pass  over  without  incurring  the  ban  of  societ}-. 
The  white  woman  who  marries  a  negro,  makes  herself 
'  n  outcast,  a  scorn,  and  a  byword.  The  white  man 
i  ho  marries  a  negress  forfeits  his  position  as  a  gentle- 
man, and  is  excluded  from  the  social  privileges  of  his 
brethren.  This  is  the  result  of  an  inherent  principle 
of  the  human  breast,  entwined,  like  conscience,  with  our 
vitality,  and  inseparable  from  it.  The  most  ultra  North- 
ern philanthropist  dare  not  contradict  this  truth.  Ho 
may  advocate  amalgamation  with  his  lips,  but  in  his 
heart,  he  recoils  from  it  with  horror.  He  would  sooner 
see  a  son  or  daughter  perish  beneath  the  stroke  of  the 
assassin  than  wedded  to  the  African,  whom  he  professes 
to  look  upon  as  his  equal  and  his  friend.  Nature  has 
marked  a  dividing  line,  as  distinct  as  that  which  sepa- 
rates the  beasts  of  the  field,  the  birds  of  the  air,  and 
the  fishes  of  the  sea.  And  why  should  any  one  wish  to 
violate  this  great  law  of  nature, — this  principle  of  homo- 
geneousness  ?  The  negro  feels  the  attraction  of  his 
kind,  and  forms,  like  ourselves,  congenial  ties." 

"But,  alas!"  exclaimed  Eulalia,  "how  often  are 
those  ties  broken  by  the  rude  hand  of  violence  and 
oppression.  How  many  heart-strings  are  bruised  and 
torn  by  the  stroke  of  the  auctioneer's  hammer.  This  is 
an  evil  which,  kind  and  feeling  as  you  are,  you  must 
deplore." 


204  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"I  do ;  and  it  is  one  which  good  masters  avert,  in 
every  possible  manner.  It  is  an  evil  which  has  never 
yet  approached  my  plantation  or  household,  and  never 
shall,  unless  necessity  lay3  its  iron  hand  upon  me." 

"  Ah  !  if  all  masters  were  like  you,  slavery  would  be 
robbed  of  its  terrors  and  its  gloom." 

"I  am  no  better  than  the  majority,  perhaps  not  as 
good.  I  know  of  some  bad  masters,  and,  what  is  still 
worse,  bad  mistresses ;  but  public  opinion  brands  them 
with  its  curse.  Their  character  is  considered  as  unna- 
tural and  execrable  as  the  cruel  and  tyrannical  parent 
of  the  North.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  irresponsible 
power  at  the  South.  We  are  made  responsible  to  man 
as  well  as  to  God,  as  our  tribunals  of  justice  can  prove 
by  abundant  facts.  But,  my  dear  Eulalia,  you  will 
soon  judge  for  yourself.  You  will  see  the  negro,  not  as 
he  is  at  the  North,  an  isolated,  degraded  being,  without 
caste  or  respectability, —  a  single  black  line  running 
through  a  web  of  whiteness, — but  surrounded  with  the 
socialities  of  life,  and,  though  doomed  to  labour,  yet 
free  from  the  cares  and  anxieties  that  rest  so  heavily  on 
us.  You  will  compare  the  reality  of  their  condition 
with  the  pictures  drawn  on  your  imagination,  and  make 
your  own  commentaries.  And  now  let  us  change  the 
subject,  and  think  of  the  household  joys  that  await  us; 
let  us  talk  of  the  home  that  is  to  be  gladdened  by 
your  presence,  and  illumined  by  your  love.  Eulalia,  I 
feel  that  I  owe  you  a  sacred  debt,  one  that  my  whole 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         205 

life  can  never  cancel.  You  have  loved  me  in  the  face 
of  opposition,  prejudice,  and  reproach.  You  have  given 
Hie  a  virgin's  heart,  and  accepted  in  return  one  wounded 
and  betrayed.  You  have  confided  in  my  power  to  make 
you  happy,  though  so  dark  a  cloud  has  rested  on  my 
home.  You  have  assumed  the  cares  of  maternity, 
young  and  inexperienced  as  you  are,  under  circum- 
stances more  painful  than  death  creates.  Let  me  go 
on,  Eulalia,  and  enumerate  your  claims  on  my  honour, 
devotion,  and  love,  for  you  dream  not  of  their  existence, 
in  the  lowliness  of  your  self-estimation." 

"No,  no — let  us  talk  of  your  child.  You  know  not 
how  my  heart  yearns  towards  it ;  how  I  long  to  fulfil 
towards  it  a  mother's  duties  !" 

"I  fear,"  said  Moreland,  and  his  eyes  flashed  up, 
then  darkened,  under  his  suddenly  contracted  brows, — 
"I  fear  you  will  find  a  father's  as  well  as  a  mother's 
duties  devolving  on  you.  Think  me  not  a  wretch,  Eu- 
lalia, but  I  cannot  love  my  child.  Though  beautiful  as 
a  cherub,  I  shun  its  sight,  and  shrink  involuntarily  from 
its  innocent  caresses.  I  do  not  wonder  you  look  at  me 
.so  reproachfully,  but  it  is  in  vain  to  endeavour  to  conceal 
what  you  will  so  soon  discover.  It  has  never  lacked  for 
tenderness,  however,  for  my  sister  loves  it  as  she  doea 
her  own  soul,  and  its  black  nurse  feels  for  it  more  than 
love — worship  and  adoration." 

"And  you  too  shall  love  it,"  said  Eulalia,  her  face 
lighted  up  with  the  holy  expression  of  the  Virgin  Mo- 
148 


206  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

ther.  "You  shall  love  it  for  my  sake,  if  not  for  its 
own.  I  shall  make  it  a  condition  of  my  happiness  and 
affection.  This  little  cherub  will  be  to  me  a  younger, 
lovelier  Dora,  and  I  shall  still  retain  my  character  of 
ister-mother." 

"I  believe  you  to  be  the  most  irresistible,"  replied 
Moreland,  the  dark  expression  passing  from  his  counte- 
nance, and  the  smile  of  the  bridegroom  returning,  "as  I 
know  you  to  be  the  most  loveable  of  human  beings. 
Yes,  for  your  sake  I  would  promise  to  love  the  whole 
universe.  I  would  bind  the  North  as  well  as  the  South 
in  one  common  embrace.  You  have  already  been  to  me 
an  angel  of  conciliation,  softening  the  bitterness  of  my 
feelings  when  made  to  drink  the  wormwood  and  the 
gall  distilled  from  the  lips  of  rancorous  prejudice.  Oh  ! 
Eulalia !  you  and  Ildegerte  will  love  one  another.  You 
will  find  in  her  a  dear  and  noble  sister." 

"Ildegerte  !"  repeated  Eulalia,  her  voice  lingering  on 
the  name — "that  is  a  Scandinavian  name.  It  has  a 
peculiar  sound." 

"  There  is  a  noble  romance  in  it,  that  suits  well  my 
sister's  high-toned  character.  My  mother  found  it,  I 
believe,  in  some  Runic  legend,  associated  with  the  charm 
of  poetry  and  love.  But  see,  the  silver  mist  curling 
along  the  shore.  The  river  breeze  wafts  it  in  wreaths 
around  us.  I  cannot  trust  you  any  longer  in  this  moon- 
light, lovely  as  it  is." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         207 

Eulalia  felt  as  if  she  were  in  a  different  world,  when 
immured  once  more  in  the  close  walls  of  the  cabin ;  but 
her  thoughts  wandered  to  the  world  beyond — the  Ultima 
Thule  of  her  hopes  and  wishes — her  beautiful  Southern 
home. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  residence  of  Mr.  Moreland  to  which  he  first  bore 

his  Northern  bride,  was  situated  in  the  town  of , 

and  about  two  days'  journey  from  his  plantation.  It 
was  a  large  and  handsome  building,  stuccoed  and 
painted  in  imitation  of  marble,  surrounded  by  a  piazza, 
supported  by  massy  pillars,  which  were  covered  with  the 
same  artificial  porphyry.  A  wide  passage  ran  through 
the  centre  of  the  house,  opening  into  the  garden  through 
doors  of  green  lattice-work,  and  making  a  channel 
through  which  waves  of  fresh  air  were  constantly  flowing. 
The  yard  in  front  was  laid  out  in  terraces,  and  semi- 
circular hedges  of  roses  and  cape  jessamines  enclosed 
two  airy  and  vine-mantled  summer-houses,  on  either  side 
of  the  avenue.  Two  lofty  oaks,  whose  gray  trunks 
were  twined  with  the  dark  green  ivy,  stood  as  sentinels 
over  these  domes  of  flowers,  and  gave  an  air  of  dignity 
to  the  tasteful  elegance  of  the  scene.  A  hedge  of  cedars, 
shaven  on  the  top  into  a  kind  of  table-land,  on  which 
the  gossamer  spread  its  silvery  wed,  margined  the  yard, 
and  relieved  by  its  deep,  rich  verdure,  the  white  paling 

(208) 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         209 

that  surrounded  it.  As  this  dwelling  faced  the  east,  the 
cool  evening  shadows  rested  on  the  piazza,  and  made  it 
a  pleasant  gathering  place  in  the  after  part  of  the  day. 

It  might  be  supposed,  that  dwelling  in  a  more  sultry 
clime,  and  warmed  by  the  beams  of  a  more  burning  sun, 
the  children  of  a  Southern  latitude  would  sink  in  a  las- 
situde and  languor  unknown  at  the  North.  But  it  is 
not  so.  It  is  true,  during  the  noonday  heat,  when  the 
very  flowers  bow  their  heads  before  the  intensity  of 
meridian  glory,  they  yield  to  the  pervading  influence ; 
but  when  the  heat  begins  to  assume  a  mellow,  golden 
tint,  they  come  out  in  the  open  air,  that  revels  in  their 
ample  piazzas  or  airy  verandahs,  and  their  spirits  acquire 
the  freshness,  elasticity,  and  buoyancy  of  the  breeze 
that  fans  them. 

At  such  an  hour  as  this,  we  will  introduce  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household,  over  which  our  Northern  bride 
now  presides. 

Do  you  see  that  lady,  seated  by  one  of  the  pillars, 
with  the  vine-leaves  which  entwine  it,  resting  like  a 
chaplet  on  her  black  and  shining  hair  ?  Her  eyes,  of 
the  same  colour  as  her  hair,  have  the  softness  and  rich- 
ness of  satin,  though  a  spark  in  the  centre,  of  quick, 
flashing  light,  shows  that  there  is  fire  beneath  that 
gentle  brilliancy.  Her  figure  is  slender  and  pliant,  and 
her  hand,  which  plays  with  the  green  leaves  that  crown 
her,  is  dazzlingly  fair.  It  is  Ildegerte,  the  sister  of  More- 
land  ;    and  that  very  pale,   delicate,  fair-haired,  blue- 


210  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

eyed  young  man,  seated  near  her,  is  her  husband.  A 
more  striking  contrast  in  personal  appearance  could 
scarcely  be  presented.  She,  radiant  in  blooming  health, 
— he,  pallid,  drooping,  languid,  the  victim  of  a  consti- 
tutional malady.  Of  Northern  birth,  Richard  Laurens 
brought  to  the  South  the  germs  of  hereditary  consump- 
tion, too  deeply  seated  to  admit  of  remedy  or  cure. 
Since  his  marriage,  they  have  developed  themselves 
with  fatal  rapidity,  and  every  one  but  his  young  wife 
reads  the  doom  that  is  written  on  his  emaciated  and 
altered  features.  She  will  not  see  it.  The  cough  that 
racks  his  frame  is  the  result  of  a  cold, — nothing  but  a 
cold ;  his  debility,  the  effect  of  the  summer  heat ;  his 
variable  and  fastidious  appetite,  caused  by  want  of 
exercise  and  change  of  air.  There  is  a  well-spring  of 
hope  in  her  heart,  inexhaustible  as  her  love,  and  by 
both  these  unfailing  fountains  the  wilting  blossoms  of 
her  husband's  life  derive  their  chief  renovation.  He  is 
a  physician,  and  has  commenced  the  practice  of  his  pro- 
fession under  the  most  favourable  auspices  ;  but  arrested 
by  disease,  he  is  obliged  to  turn  himself  to  the  healing 
art  by  which  he  had  hoped  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of 
humanity.  Poor  fellow  !  it  is  hard,  with  such  brilliant 
prospects  before  him,  with  so  much  to  endear  and  enrich 
life, — such  a  happy  home,  and,  more  than  all,  such  a 
beautiful  and  loving  wife, — it  is  hard  to  think  of  dying. 
He  will  not  do  it, — he  cannot.  He  cannot  give  up 
existence  with  such  strong  ties  to  bind  him  to  it.     They 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        211 

are  cable  cords,  and  cannot  be  broken.  On  the  morrow, 
accompanied  by  his  "wife,  he  is  to  commence  a  journey 
to  the  West.  The  physician  with  whom  he  studied 
resides  in  the  Queen  City  of  Ohio, — a  man  as  highly 
distinguished  for  genius  and  virtue  as  professional  skil1. 
He  is  sure  of  finding  restoration  with  him.  Miracles, 
almost  divine,  might  be  expected  from  his  touch.  His 
only  regret  is,  that  he  has  not  sought  his  saving  influ- 
ence sooner. 

You  recognise  Eulalia.  There  needs  no  new  descrip- 
tion of  her  peculiar  and  spiritual  loveliness.  She  looks 
at  home  in  the  midst  of  the  refinements  and  elegancies 
which  wealth  only  can  command.  Her  new  household 
dignity  sits  gracefully  upon  her.  She  is  already  familiar 
with  her  duties,  and  no  longer  blushes  when  addressed 
by  the  unwonted  title  of  mistress.  Even  the  name  of 
mamma,  lisped  by  the  little  fairy  frolicking  round  her, 
has  become  a  sweet  and  familiar  sound  to  her  ear.  You 
have  never  seen  that  three-year-old  child — the  child  of 
the  misguided  Claudia.  The  child  whom  the  injured 
Moreland  did  not,  could  not  love ;  because  its  mother's 
spirit  flashed  from  its  eyes  of  gipsy  hue  and  brightness. 
But  Eulalia  says  it  has  its  father's  smile,  and  that  is 

"All  to  love  and  her." 

In  the  infantine  face  of  little  Effie,  the  features  of 
both  parents  are  singularly  combined,  giving  her  a  two- 
fold and  varying  expression.     Sometimes  she  looks  at 


212  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

you  with  a  bold,  mischievous,  ■wicked  glance,  as  if  she 
mocked  the  very  thought  of  restraint ;  then  again,  an 
exquisite  softness  will  steal  over  her  countenance,  and 
a  gentle,  winning  smile  beam  with  hereditary  sweetness. 
She  is  the  spoiled  child  of  indulgence,  for  Ildegerte 
never  could  attempt  to  discipline  the  little  deserted 
orphan,  and  Aunt  Kizzie,  its  black  nurse  and  mammy, 
would  as  soon  have  thought  of  cutting  off  her  head,  as 
refuse  to  gratify  its  most  unreasonable  wishes.  She  is 
an  elf,  a  sprite,  a  fairy,  a  cherub,  a  tricksy,  wayward, 
fascinating  little  creature,  that  already  gives  its  young 
stepmother  a  world  of  anxiety.  She  makes  a  charming- 
picture,  does  she  not,  at  this  moment  ?  She  has  been 
running  about  the  yard,  pulling  off  the  most  beautiful 
flowers  (for  hers  are  privileged  fingers,  and  if  the  moon 
and  stars  were  reachable,  they  would  have  been  plucked 
long  since  for  her  gratification),  and  now,  with  her  little 
white  apron  full  and  overflowing  with  blossoms,  she  has 
toiled  up  the  steps  and  seated  herself  at  the  feet  of  Eu- 
lalia,  her  cheeks  glowing  with  exercise  and  her  jetty 
hair  tossed  back  from  her  moistened  brow.  She  stoops 
down  and  sticks  the  flowers  in  the  binding  of  Eulalia's 
slippers ;  she  throws  them  sportively  in  her  face,  then, 
clapping  her  hands,  bursts  into  wild  laughter,  and,  jump- 
ing up,  scatters  the  broken  and  remnant  leaves  in  a 
shower  on  the  floor. 

"Oh!  Miss  Effie  !  you  so  bad,"  cries  Aunt  Kizzie, 
waddling  up  behind  her,  her  ebony  face  shining  like  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         213 

sun,  and  her  thick  African  lips  flattened  in  the  broad 
smile  that  parts  them;  "you  make  such  a  litter  you 
keep  a  body  trotting  arter  you  all  day  long.  It  mighty 
hard  work  to  be  picking  up  trash,  tho'  it  ben't  much  to 
peak  of." 

Kizzie's  audible  grunt,  as  she  stoops  to  gather  up  the 
trash,  is  an  emphatic  commentary  on  her  words. 

"Never  mind,  Aunt  Kizzie,"  says  Eulalia,  "let  her 
amuse  herself.     Netty  can  brush  away  the  leaves." 

"Bless  your  pretty  face,  mistress,"  exclaims  the 
nurse,  straightening  herself  with  another  demonstration. 
"You's  got  a  heap  of  consideration.  If  it  wer'n't  for 
the  'flammatory  rheumatiz  that  took  me  last  winter,  I 
wouldn't  want  Netty's  help,  no  manner  of  way.  But 
praise  the  Lord,  I'm  up  and  living,  and  able  to  see  arter 
this  blessed  child.  It  never  would  let  nobody  do  nothing 
for't  but  Aunt  Kizzie.     Would  it,  honey?" 

Effie  crooked  her  dimpled  elbow,  and  raising  it  above 
her  head,  peeped  at  Kizzie  through  the  triangular  open- 
ing with  a  cunning,  mischievous  expression,  as  much  as 
to  say — "  I  make  you  do  just  what  I  please." 

"Here,  you  Netty,"  said  Kizzie,  pointing  with  an  air 
cf  authority  to  the  floor,  "wait  on  little  missy." 

Netty,  a  nice,  trim-looking  mulatto  girl,  with  a  yellow 
handkerchief  twisted  coquettishly  round  her  crisped  yet 
shining  hair,  was  tripping  across  the  passage,  and  imme- 
diately obeyed  the  mandate  of  her  sub-mistress ;    for 


214  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

nurse  is  a  person  of  great  dignity,  and  speaks  as  one 
having  authority  over  the  other  servants. 

"Move,  little  missy — just  a  leetle  bit,"  cried  Netty, 
in  a  pleasant,  coaxing  voice,  taking  hold  of  her  gently 
■with  her  left  hand,  while  she  held  in  her  right  a  large, 
mottled  turkey  wing. 

"I  won't,"  said  Effie,  pouting  her  red  lips,  and  look- 
ing defiantly  at  the  mulatto. 

"  Can't  you  let  her  be  ?"  said  Kizzie,  reprovingly. 
"  What  need  of  pestering  her  ?" 

"But  Effie,  my  darling,"  cried  Eulalia,  bending  down 
and  speaking  in  a  low,  gentle  voice,  "it  is  very  wrong 
to  say  'I  won't.'  If  you  do  not  like  to  do  anything, 
you  must  say  'I  had  rather  not.'  Will  you  not  repeat 
it  after  me  ?" 

"I  won't,"  exclaimed  the  child,  still  more  emphati- 
cally, peering  at  her  stepmother  through  her  long  black 
lashes,  with  her  elfish,  glittering  eyes. 

"Do  you  expect  to  make  that  little  witch  mind  you?" 
exclaimed  Ildegerte,  bursting  into  a  gay  laugh.  "I 
should  not  think  of  teaching  children  obedience  before 
they  were  five  years  old." 

"  I  should  never  expect  it  afterwards,  if  I  had  not 
required  it  before,"  replied  Eulalia  gravely.  "As  soon 
as  a  strong  will  is  manifested,  the  discipline  of  the  tem- 
per should  commence." 

"  One  would  think,  to  hear  you  talk,  that  you  were  a 
grandmother  Lois,  if  they  did  not  look  in  your  youthful 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE,         215 

face,"  cried  Ildegerte,  laughing  still  more  heartily. 
"  But  pray  make  her  say  '  I  had  rather  not.'  It  will  be 
the  most  amusing  scene  in  the  world.  Here  comes  bro- 
ther to  witness  it." 

Moreland,  entering  at  the  back  door,  came  forward  in 
a  hunting  dress  of  "Lincoln  green,"  a  rifle  in  his  hand, 
an  Indian  pouch  swinging  over  his  shoulder,  from  the 
mouth  of  which  protruded  the  brown  heads  of  many  a 
partridge,  hanging  from  limber  and  rumpled  necks ;  a 
beautiful  white  pointer,  spotted  with  bright  bistre  colour, 
following  his  steps,  with  joyous  bounds  and  a  counte- 
nance sparkling  with  human  intelligence. 

"  Down,  Fido,  down  !"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  dog  leaped 
up  and  laid  one  of  his  quivering  paws  on  his  shoulder. 
"  I  only  allowed  you  to  come  in  and  pay  your  respects 
to  your  mistress.  Here,  Eulalia,  I  lay  my  trophies  at 
your  feet." 

"Really,  I  am  very  weary,"  added  he,  throwing  him- 
self carelessly  on  the  upper  step  and  casting  his  pouch 
at  her  feet;  "but  home  seems  doubly  sweet,  after 
roughing  it  awhile  in  the  woods.  What  has  given  you 
such  a  beautiful  colour,  Eulalia?" 

Eulalia  was  conscious  of  a  bright  glow  on  her  cheeks, 
in  consequence  of  Ildegerte's  playful  but  satirical  re- 
marks. She  did  not  wish  them  repeated  to  Moreland, 
knowing  that  he,  too,  believed  a  child  of  that  age  too 
young  to  be  disciplined  into  obedience — and  that  he 
would  naturally  express  that  opinion  in  the  hearing  of 


216  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Eme,  whose  uncommon  intelligence  took  in  meanings 
they  imagined  above  her  comprehension. 

"Your  -wife  has  been  trying  to  make  Effie  obey  her," 
said  Ildegerte.  "  Don't  you  think  she  has  a  task  before 
her?" 

Moreland  laughed,  as  Eulalia  expected  he  would. 

"  Oh !  you  must  leave  all  that  to  Kizzie  for  the  pre- 
sent," said  he.  "Time  enough,  by  and  by,  for  you  to 
trouble  yourself  with  her  waywardness.  But,  tell  me, 
little  despot,"  he  cried  to  the  child,  who  had  been  look- 
ing earnestly  in  Eulalia's  face  the  last  minute,  "what 
have  you  been  doing,  to  displease  this  gentle  lady?" 

"I — I — had  rather  not,"  cried  Effie,  a  sweet,  roguish 
smile  dimpling  her  round  cheeks;  "I  had  rather  not." 

"A  miracle!"  exclaimed  Ildegerte,  clapping  her 
hands.  "Eulalia  has  triumphed.  She  must  have  the 
gift  of  mao'ic." 

"The  Lord  hear  her!"  cried  Aunt  Kizzie,  who  had 
retired  into  the  background  at  the  coming  of  her  master. 
"Who'd  a  thought  it,  the  little,  knowing  cherrup  !" 

While  Ildegerte  related,  with  sportive  grace,  to  her 
brother,  the  scene  we  have  described,  Eulalia  lifted  the 
child  in  her  arms,  and  covered  her  smiling  face  with 
kisses.  She  was  equally  astonished  and  enchanted  at 
her  docility,  after  witnessing  so  many  instances  of  her 
waywardness  and  obstinacy  to  others.  Of  all  things, 
1  sue  had  a  horror  of  a  spoiled  child — that  tyrant  of  a 
household,  more  despotic  than  Nero,  more  formidable 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  217 

than  an  army  with  banners.  That  Moreland  did  not 
love  the  indulged  and  imperious  little  pet,  whom  Kizzie 
declared  to  be  "the  living  military  of  its  mother,"  she 
could  not  so  much  wonder ;  but  she  wanted  to  make  him 
love  her,  to  mould  her  into  such  moral  loveliness  that  he 
would  be  constrained  to  love  her.  She  hailed  this  inci- 
dent as  an  omen  of  success,  as  a  proof  of  her  own  influ- 
ence and  the  child's  attraction  towards  her ;  and  again 
caressing  her,  she  told  her  she  was  a  dear,  good,  sweet 
child,  and  every  one  would  love  her  better  than  they 
had  done  before. 

"I  had  rather  not,"  whispered  Effie  in  her  ear,  appa- 
rently charmed  with  her  new  lesson,  and  repeating  it 
like  a  little  parrot. 

Moreland  watched  them  both,  till  the  exceeding  ten- 
derness he  felt  for  Eulalia  diffused  itself  over  the  child 
she  thus  folded  to  her  young  and  loving  bosom.  It 
seemed  to  lose  its  painful  resemblance  to  its  mother,  and 
assimilate  itself  to  her,  who  now  filled  that  mother's 
forfeited  place.  He  longed  to  clasp  them  both  in  his 
arms,  and  tell  Eulalia  the  feelings  with  which  his  heart 
was  swelling.  He  could  not  help  rising  and  bending 
over  the  back  of  her  chair,  and  saying,  in  those  low 
tones  she  had  so  often  heard  under  the  sycamore 
boughs, 

"  Make  her  like  yourself,  Eulalia,  all  that  is  lovely 
and  good,  and  I  will  forget  she  ever  had  another 
mother." 


218  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Eulalia  bowed  her  head  still  lower  over  Effie's  bloom- 
ing face,  to  hide  the  tears  that  gushed  into  her  eyes. 
She  wondered  she  had  ever  thought  herself  happy 
before,  so  full  was  her  content,  so  deep  her  gratitude. 
In  the  brief  moment  of  silence  that  followed,  she  lived 
an  age  of  thought.  She  travelled  back  to  New  England, 
and  blessed  her  mother  for  her  inculcations  of  wisdom 
and  love.  She  travelled  into  the  future,  and  saw  her- 
self surrounded  by  blessings  that  multiplied  as  she 
gazed.  She  looked  up  into  eternity,  and  prayed  that 
she  might  be  true  to  the  past  and  worthy  of  the  future. 

"What  a  sweet,  lovely  creature  she  is !"  whispered 
Ildegerte  to  her  husband.  "  Who  would  believe  that 
the  North  gave  birth  to  such  an  angel  ?" 

"You  forget  that  I  was  born  at  the  North,"  replied 
her  invalid  husband,  with  a  languid  smile. 

"Poor  Richard !"  said  his  wife,  passing  her  hand 
caressingly  over  his  fair,  waving  locks,  the  only 
youthful  beauty  which  sickness  had  not  dimmed  and 
impaired.  "  You  will  be  yourself  again  when  Dr. 
Darley  can  prescribe  for  you.  To-morrow,  Richard, 
you  know  we  start  to-morrow.  I  wish  we  had  gone 
?ong  ago." 

"  I  wish  so  too,  Ildegerte.  Heaven  grant  that  it  may 
not  be  too  late.  I  sometimes  think  it  is  selfish  in  me 
to  take  you  with  me,  and  expose  you  to  all  the  incon- 
veniences of  travelling  with  a  sick  husband, — you,  who 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  219 

never  knew  what  care  or  privation  is.  But,  if  I  should 
die,  all  I  pray  is,  that  it  may  be  in  your  ams." 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Richard.  You  will  not  die.  You 
will  soon  be  as  well  as  ever.  You  are  so  young,  and 
naturally  so  healthy.  Even  now,  what  a  fine  rosy 
colour  you  have !  We  shall  enjoy  so  much  travelling 
together,  and  then  the  West  is  such  a  grand,  magnifi- 
cent region  !  You  forget  that  Crissy  is  to  go  with  me, 
the  most  faithful  and  attached  creature  in  the  world." 

"We  are  going  to  a  sad  place  to  carry  slaves,"  said 
Laurens,  dejectedly.  "  They  will  leave  no  means  un- 
tried to  lure  her  from  you.  What  a  dreadful  situation 
you  would  be  in,  if  I  should  die,  and  you  be  left  alone 
among  strangers,  many  of  whom  are  hostile  to  your  best 
interests." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  don't  talk  so,  Richard.  I  don't 
know  what  is  the  matter  with  you  to-night.  I  never 
saw  you  so  desponding  before.  Did  not  brother  take 
Albert  with  him  as  far  as  Massachusetts  ?  was  he  not 
beset  by  abolitionists  on  every  side,  and  had  one  the 
power  to  shake  his  loyalty  and  attachment  ?  I  am  sure 
that  Crissy  loves  me,  better  even  than  Albert  loves  his 
master.  She  has  a  husband  and  children,  too,  whom 
she  will  leave  behind,  and  to  whom  she  will  be  anxious 
to  return.  I  should  as  soon  think  of  doubting  your 
affection  as  hers,  Richard." 

After  supper,  instead  of  returning  to  the  piazza  as 
usual,  they  busied  themselves  in  preparations  for  th6 


220  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

morrow.  Moreland  looked  forward  to  the  journey  with 
many  hopes  and  many  fears.  He  had  heard  so  much 
of  Dr.  Darley,  that,  like  Laurens,  he  sometimes  thought 
he  had  omnipotent  skill,  and  was  invested,  like  the  pri- 
mitive disciples,  with  the  healing  touch.  Under  other 
circumstances,  he  would  gladly  have  accompanied  his 
sister ;  but  he  could  not  leave  his  Northern  bride — a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land.  Ildegerte  did  not  ask  or 
wish  such  a  sacrifice.  She  was  so  full  of  health  and 
hope  and  love,  she  saw  no  difficulties  to  deter  them,  no 
obstacles  to  impede  the  holy  pilgrimage  for  which  she 
was  girding  herself. 

The  trunks  were  packed,  the  little  medicine  chest 
carefully  attended  to,  and  all  things  placed  in  the  pass- 
age, preparatory  for  the  morning  journey.  Then  a 
feeling  of  blankness  and  oppression,  succeeding  unusual 
bustle  and  excitement,  settled  coldly  on  the  heart  of  Il- 
degerte. Her  hopefulness  seemed  suddenly  extinguished, 
and  the  future  looked  dark  and  threatening.  All  at 
once,  she  realized  the  precarious  tenure  of  her  husband's 
lease  of  life.  If  he  should  die  in  a  land  of  strangers, 
what  would  become  of  her  ?  Sitting  down  on  her  trunk, 
"and  leaning  her  head  upon  her  hand,  tears,  which  gushed 
before  she  was  aware,  rained  upon  her  lap.  She  could 
hear  his  dry,  continuous  cough  through  the  closed  door 
of  her  room,  and  never  had  it  sounded  so  dismal,  so 
Knell-like  before.  Poor  Ildegerte  !  you  should  not  have 
seated  yourself  on  that  trunk,  all  locked  and  strapped 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         221 

and  labelled.  It  is  a  mournful  seat,  suggestive  of 
separation,  uncertainty,  and  unknown  trials.  "Dr.  R. 
Laurens,  Cincinnati,  Ohio,"  written  in  large,  black  let- 
ters on  the  lid  of  the  other  trunk,  looks  very  much  like 
an  inscription  on  a  coffin.  She  tried  to  turn  away  from 
it,  but  her  eyes  would  be  drawn  back  to  the  obituary 
emblem. 

"What  is  that,  Crissy  ?"  she  asked,  as  a  negro  woman 
eame  in,  with  something  dark  swinging  from  her  arm, 
something  whose  heavy  flapping  reminded  her  of  a  pall. 

"Nothing  but  Mars.  Richard's  cloak,  Miss  Ilda.  I 
'fraid  he  miss  it  in  the  morning.     Is  that  all,  missus?" 

"Yes.  You  had  better  go  to  bed,  so  as  to  wake  bright 
and  early.  But  stop  a  moment,  Crissy.  What  makes 
you  look  so  sober  ?  Do  you  feel  badly  about  going 
awaj  ?" 

"I  hates  to  leave  my  old  man  and  the  little  children, 
just  at  the  last  pinch ;  but  I  ain't  going  to  make  a  fuss, 
no  how.  You've  got  trouble  enough  of  your  own,  mis- 
sus, let  alone  being  bothered  with  tother  folks." 

"I  am  sorry  to  take  you  from  your  family,  Crissy, 
but  we  shall  not  be  gone  very  long ;  and  you  know, 
Mammy  will  take  as  good  care  of  your  children  as  if 
they  were  her  own.  But  I  don't  want  you  to  go  at  all, 
Crissy,  if  you  are  not  willing.  I  can  take  Netty,  who 
has  no  husband  nor  children,  and  you  can  do  her  work 
in  the  house,  if  Mrs.  Moreland  will  consent.  I  pre- 
ferred you,  because  t  know  what  a  good,  kind  nurse 
140 


222  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

you  are,  and  you  have  always  been  used  to  waiting  on 
me." 

"Don't  talk,  Miss  Ilda.  Don't  say  nothing.  It 
hurts  me  mighty  bad  to  hear  you  talk  'bout  Netty's 
going.  She  ain't  fit  for  nothing  but  sweep  house  and 
"^ing  her  fol-de-rols,  jist  as  if  we're  all  ear,  no  hands,  no 
feet,  no  nothing.  No,  no,  Miss  Ilda,  I  not  gwine  to 
give  up  to  no  'rangement  of  that  sort.  I  hain't  waited 
on  you  this  long  to  give  my  place  to  nobody — and  you 
sich  a  'dulgent  missus.  You  go,  I  go  ;  Mars.  Richard 
sick,  I  nuss  him  ;  take  care  of  you.  Never  mind  Jim 
and  the  children.  Leave  'em  to  Lord  Almighty.  He 
knows  what's  best." 

"  But,  suppose  they  try  to  get  you  away  from  me, 
Crissy,  as  they  did  Albert  from  brother  ?  Can  I  trust 
you  ?  "Will  you  promise  to  be  faithful  to  me,  whatever 
may  betide  ?  I  cannot  say,  as  brother  did  to  Albert, 
'go,  if  you  will,'  for  I  shall  have  nobody  to  depend 
upon  but  you." 

Never  before  had  Ildegerte  acknowledged  her  de- 
pendence on  a  menial.  She  had  always  been  kind  and 
indulgent ;  but  there  was  a  certain  loftiness  and  self- 
reliance  about  her  that  made  her  seem  sufficient  in  her- 
self for  all  things.  But  now,  the  strange  oppression 
of  her  feelings  made  her  lowly,  and  she  leaned  uncon- 
sciously on  the  sympathy  and  affection  of  the  negro, 
whose  faithful  attachment  was  coeval  with  her  existence. 
Crissy  had  not  the  young,  bright,  smart-looking  appear- 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  223 

ance  of  Netty.  She  had  a  quiet,  subdued  air,  and  a 
pale,  grayish  tinge  dimmed  the  blackness  of  her  skin. 
She  was  thin,  and  had  a  slight  cavity  in  her  cheeks, 
which  gave  her  somewhat  of  a  melancholy  cast  of  coun- 
tenance. Unlike  the  negroes  in  general,  she  exhibited 
no  fondness  for  gay  colours,  preferring  drab  to  scarlet ; 
her  greatest  finery  consisting  of  a  white  apron  and  gold 
ear-rings.  The  fine  dresses  and  ornaments  which  Ilde- 
gerte  lavished  upon  her  she  loved  to  hoard,  and  every 
,  Sunday  she  had  a  grand  review  of  her  treasures,  which 
had  an  hebdomadal  increase.  The  negro  is  generally 
prodigal,  having  no  need  of  forethought  or  care  for  the 
supply  of  the  morrow's  wants.  If  he  has  money  (and  , 
[be  always  does  have  money),  he  spends  it;  if  fine  | 
clothes  are  given  to  him,  he  wears  them,  certain  of  a 
future   supply.     But   Crissy   was   an  exception   to  the 

h 

general  rule.  She  did  love  to  hoard,  and  her  chest, 
\  always  carefully  locked,  and  covered  with  a  spread  of 
white  dimity,  fringed  with  tasselled  netting,  was  sacred 
to  her  as  the  ark  of  the  covenant  to  the  children  of 
Israel.  Netty — the  gay,  coquettish,  warbling  Netty — 
called  her  a  "stingy  old  thing,"  and  teased  her  about 
her  clothes  mouldering  to  pieces,  stuck  away  in  a  musty 
chest.  She  declared  everything  Crissy  wore  had  a 
mouldy  smell  and  a  moth-eaten  look,  and  that  her 
money  was  gangrened,  it  had  been  put  away  so  long. 
In  consequence  of  this  hoarding  propensity,  which  is 
always  linked  with  selfishness,  Crissy  was  not  a  favourite 


ft 


224  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

with  the  other  servants ;  but  she  was  invaluable  in  the 
household,  for  her  neatness,  industry,  and  fidelity.  She 
was  endeared  to  Ildegerte  by  long  habit,  and  her  ex- 
treme kindness  in  sickness.  She  was  associated  with 
all  the  comforts  of  her  childhood  and  the  enjoyments  of 
her  youth.  She  had  another  quality,  remarkable  in  one 
of  her  colour,  wakefulness.  The  negro's  sleep  is  deep 
and  sound  as  a  magnetic  slumber.  He  can  sleep  any- 
where and  everywhere, — reclining,  sitting,  standing,  even 
walking.  He  can  sleep,  we  verily  believe,  on  the  ridge- 
pole of  a  house,  or  the  apex  of  a  church-dome ;  but 
Crissy  seemed  a  stranger  to  this  soporific  influence. 
She  was  never  caught  napping  or  nodding  in  the  day- 
time, and  the  lowest  sound  of  Ildegerte's  voice  awakened 
her  at  night.  This  was  probably  owing  to  her  unusual 
prudence  and  forethought,  anxious  watchers  by  the  bed 
of  the  white  man,  but  strangers  to  the  couch  of  the 
African. 

Ildegerte  inhaled  the  inspiration  of  hope  with  the 
morning  breeze.  Richard  had  had  such  a  quiet  night, 
such  refreshing  slumbers,  was  so  brightened  and  encou- 
raged himself,  that  she  was  quite  ashamed  of  the 
despondency  of  the  preceding  evening.  They  were  to 
travel  the  first  day's  journey  in  their  own  carriage, 
Moreland  accompanying  them  on  horseback,  so  it  seemed 
more  like  an  excursion  of  pleasure  than  the  commence- 
ment of  a  long  and  weary  pilgrimage. 

The  travellers  were  seated  in  the  carriage,  Moreland 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        ZlO 

mounted  ready  to  escort  them,  Eulalia  standing  by  one 
of  the  lofty  gate-posts,  in  the  shade  of  a  coral  honey- 
suckle, that  climbing  to  its  summit  tossed  its  glowing 
wreaths  to  the  gale,  so  near  him  that  her  hand  could 
play  with  the  horse's  shining  mane ;  Kizzie,  in  all  her 
well-fed  rotundity  and  consequential  dignity,  on  the  other 
side,  holding  little  Effie  in  her  arms,  who  frisked  from 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  not  forgetting  an  occasional  vault 
to  the  top  of  her  head,  in  her  wild,  elfish  pranks ;  and 
a  row  of  household  negroes,  gathered  in  a  body-guard 
round  the  carriage.  But  where  was  Crissy  ?  Every- 
thing was  ready  but  Crissy.  A  messenger  was  des- 
patched to  hasten  her  movements,  when  she  appeared 
with  a  large  bundle  on  her  head,  while  Jim  toiled  on 
after  her  with  a  tremendous  box  on  Ms  head,  so  large 
and  heavy  it  seemed  to  flatten  it  on  the  top  into  a  pan- 
cake form. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  box,  Jim?" 
inquired  his  master. 

"  Don't  know,  massa.  It's  Crissy's  plunder.  She 
tell  me  to  tote  it  to  the  carriage." 

"  That  box !  that  big,  heavy,  clumsy  thing !"  ex- 
claimed Ildegerte,  impatiently.  "  Why,  Crissy,  you 
must  be  crazy,  to  think  we  could  carry  that.  It  can 
never  go  in  the  world.  And  here  you  have  kept  us 
waiting  half  an  hour  already." 

"  I'm  obleeged  to  take  my  clothes,  missus.  Hain't 
got  nothing  else  to  put  'em  in." 


226  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"  You  miglit  have  had  that  small  trunk  in  my  dressing 
closet.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?"  cried  Ilde- 
gerte,  laughing  in  spite  of  herself  at  Crissy's  rueful 
countenance.  "Go,  this  minute,  and  put  what  you 
need  in  that.  Make  haste.  We  ought  to  have  been 
gone  an  hour  ago." 

"Ain't  you  'shamed  to  entertain  your  missus  in  this 
way?"  said  Kizzie,  removing  Effie's  foot  from  her 
mouth,  who  was  now  frolicking  all  round  her  head. 
"  Go  'long.  What  you  want  to  carry  them  duds  to  look 
over  every  Sunday  for  ?  Nobody  wants  to  steal  'em. 
Hi — smell  too  musty  for  me." 

"  Come  'long,  Jim,"  said  Crissy,  giving  a  jerk  to  the 
arm  of  her  obedient  Benedick,  who  went  toiling  back, 
receiving  as  he  went  innumerable  directions  about  taking 
care  of  her  property  during  her  absence,  and  keeping 
the  moths  from  her  woollen  things. 

"  You  had  better  go  in,  Eulalia,"  said  Moreland,  dis- 
mounting, and  coming  to  her  side.  "You  will  be  weary 
standing  here.  This  is  a  specimen  of  the  way  our 
servants  entertain  us,  as  Aunt  Kizzie  says.  Now,  I 
think,  in  spite  of  the  dreadful  stories  they  tell  of  us,  we 
are  a  marvellously  patient  people." 

"I  think  so  too,"  cried  Ildegerte,  leaning  from  the 
carriage-window,  and  pushing  back  the  thick,  shining 
black  tresses  that  fell  over  her  forehead  (for  her  bonnet 
lay  carelessly  in  her  lap).  "  Tell  me,  my  dear,  sweet 
Northern  sister,  do  your  servants  at  home  take  greater 


TIIE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  227 

liberties  than  ours  ?  Are  your  Northern  masters  and 
mistresses  more  enduring  than  this  brother  of  mine,  or 
his  very  meek  and  forbearing  sister  ?  Did  you  not 
expect  to  see  him  spring  from  his  horse  and  make  Jim 
and  Crissy  dance  a  gallopade  through  the  yard  to  the 
music  of  his  whip  ?" 

"No,  indeed,"  answered  Eulalia,  smiling,  though 
blushing  at  the  recollection  of  what  she  would  have 
expected  a  few  months  ago.  "I  expected  no  such 
thing.  Neither  did  I  expect  to  see  you  bear  the  delay 
with  so  much  grace  and  good-humour." 

"  Ilussell  says  I  am  the  most  impatient  creature  in 
the  world ;  but  don't  believe  him,  sweet  Eulalia.  I 
want  you  to  think  most  kindly  and  lovingly  of  me  while 
I  am  gone,  and  imagine  me  all  that  is  gentle  and  lovely 
and  of  good  report.  As  you  have  robbed  me  of  the 
first  place  in  my  brother's  heart,"  she  added,  smiling 
through  the  tears  that  gathered  into  her  brilliant  eyes, 
"it  is  no  more  than  just  that  you  should  indemnify  me, 
in  some  way." 

"  The  place  she  occupies  was  never  given  to  another," 
replied  Moreland,  looking  from  Ildegerte  to  Eulalia,  with 
the  tenderness  of  the  brother  and  the  love  of  the  husband 
beaming  in  his  eyes.  "  It  is  one  set  apart,  and  holy 
for  an  angel's  residence." 

"  That's  the  way  Richard  used  to  talk,"  said  she. 
turning  to  the  pale,  fair-haired  young  man  at  her  side : 
"  but  he  knows  now  that  a  woman  is  a  better  nurse  than 


228  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

an  angel  would  be.  They  can't  make  jellies  and  cus- 
tards as  well  as  we  can,  though  they  may  be  smarter  in 
other  respects." 

The  reappearance  of  Jim  and  Crissy  checked  the 
conversation.  Jim  looked  as  if  he  had  sadly  dwindled 
with  his  diminished  head-piece,  and  Crissy,  as  if  she 
had  parted  with  her  last  friend,  in  the  capacious  box. 

"Good  by,  Jim,"  said  she,  to  her  anxious  spouse,  who 
was  drawing  his  left  hand  briskly  under  his  nose,  while 
he  shook  hands  with  her  with  his  right ;  "  mind  what  I 
tell  you,  and  the  children  too." 

"Now,  Crissy,  you  'member,  you  not  to  run  away," 
cried  Jim,  in  a  meek,  snivelling  voice;  "if  you  do,  you 
'pent  in  saccloth  and  ashes." 

"No  danger !"  exclaimed  Albert,  laughing;  "she'll 
be  glad  enough  to  come  back,  you  see  if  she  ain't. 
May  be  they  set  her  scrubbing  too  hard,"  continued 
Albert,  rubbing  his  elbows  and  knees,  with  a  comica] 
expression.  "  Give  my  respects  to  Mistress  Grimby, 
Crissy,  may  be  you  see  her." 

As  the  carriage-wheels  rolled  down  the  green  slope 
which  led  up  to  the  house,  Eulalia's  tearful  glance 
followed  their  evolutions.  Alas  !  how  much  she  feared 
that  those  fair  locks  would  lie  low  beneath  the  green- 
sward of  the  West,  and  the  sparkling  light  of  Ildegerte's 
eyes  be  quenched  in  the  tears  of  widowhood.  But  her 
last  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  horseman,  who  ever  and 
anon  turned  and  bowed  his  head  and  kissed  his  hand  in 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         229 

token  of  farewell.  A  sudden  winding  in  the  road  took 
them  from  her  sight.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  been 
parted  from  Moreland,  and  it  seemed  to  her  a  cloud 
rested  on  the  landscape.  He  was  to  return  on  the 
morrow ;  but  what  a  long,  long  day  was  before  her  ! 
She  stood,  for  a  moment,  leaning  against  the  gate-post, 
drawing  a  wreath  of  the  honeysuckle  before  her  eyes, 
as  a  veil  to  her  emotion,  thinking  of  the  possibility  of 
her  having  to  endure  such  a  trial  as  Ildegerte  seemed 
doomed  to  bear.  Could  she  bear  it,  and  live  ?  Could 
she  see  the  pale  shadows  of  the  grave  slowly,  slowly 
stealing  over  that  countenance,  whose  light  was  now 
the  glory  of  her  soul,  as  well  as  the  warmth, — the 
vitality  of  her  heart, — and  live  ?  Oh !  no.  Why  does 
she  call  up  a  vision  so  dark  and  sad  ?  God  in  mercy 
spare  her  such  a  blow ! 

"You've  got  a  mighty  tender  heart,  missus,"  said 
Aunt  Kizzie,  in  the  same  soothing,  affectionate  tone  in 
which  a  mother  would  address  a  child.  She  would  speak 
in  a  domineering  manner  to  the  servants,  but  her  lan- 
guage and  manner  were  gentle  as  a  lamb's  to  Eulalia 
and  Effie.  She  adored  her  master ;  and,  when  he  intro- 
duced his  Northern  bride  to  the  assembled  household, 
in  all  her  beauty,  sweetness,  and  timidity,  distinguishing 
her  as  a  faithful  friend  of  the  family  and  the  kind  nurse 
of  his  child,  she  was  so  proud,  so  happy,  so  full  of  ad- 
miration and  delight,  she  could  scarcely  restrain  from 
hugging  them  both  in  her  ample  arms.     She  had  dis- 


230  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

liked,  nay,  even  hated  Claudia^  who  had  either  jffipt.  hgr 
at  a  haughty  distance,  very  unusual  in  a  Southern  mis- 
tress, or  tyrannized  over  her  with  the  most  capricious- 
despotism,  and  whom,  with  a  true  perception  of  charac^ 
ter,  she  believed  unworthy  of  the  love  of  her  noble  young 
master. 

"You've  got  a  might  tender  heart,  honey,"  repeated 
she,  setting  down  the  restless  Effie,  who,  scampering  off, 
lighted  like  a  butterfly  among  the  roses  ;  "  the  Lord 
keep  it  from  rough  handling.  And  you've  got  a  good 
husband,  if  there  ever  was  one.  He's  a  gentleman,  a 
raal  gentleman.  'Tain't  no  sham,  nuther.  It's  sound, 
clean  through.  Black  folks  knows  it  as  well  as  white 
folks.     There  ain't  a  nigger  a  hundred  miles  round  but 

CO 

what'll  take  off  his  hat  as  soon  as  Mars.  Russell  come 
in  sight.  Bless  a  Lord  for  good  massa.  Bless  a  Lord 
for  good  missus,  too.  Oh  !  you  get  along,  Kizzie  ;  you 
nothing  but  big  baby,  no  how." 

The  tears  were  fairly  dropping  down  her  black  shiny 
cheeks,  as  she  concluded  her  hosannas,  and  Eulalia's 
heart  felt  drawn  towards  her  with  strong  and  tender 
chords.  The  praises  of  Moreland  were  music  to  her 
ears.  How  she  wished  her  father  could  hear  them  from 
the  lips  of  the  Africans  themselves,  with  all  those  de- 
monstrations of  sensibility  which  proved  their  sincerity 
and  truth.  How  grieved  and  indignant  she  felt  at  the 
recollection  of  the  injustice  and  wrong  her  husband  had 
suffered,  in  consequence  of  the  prejudices  and  miscon- 


the  planter's  northern  bride.  231 

struction  he  encountered  from  her  father's  partisans  at 
the  North  !  How  she  honoured  him  for  his  Christian 
forbearance  ;  and  how  deep  was  her  gratitude  for  the 
love  which,  overlooking  all  this,  had  chosen  her  from 
all  others,  made  her  the  presiding  Queen  of  his  princely 
home,  and  was  crowning  her  with  daily  blessings  !  Gra 
titude !  who  would  not  smile  at  the  idea  of  her  feeling 
gratitude  for  the  love  of  any  one  ?  Of  her,  who  was 
the  incarnation  of  all  that  is  pure  and  good  and  lovely 
in  woman  ?  But  nothing  is  so  lowly  and  self-depreciat- 
ing as  true  love.  In  proportion  a3  it  exalts  another  it 
humbles  itself.  It  places  its  idol  on  a  throne  high  as 
the  heavens,  and  bows,  a  trembling  worshipper,  below. 

Eulalia  could  not  help  feeling  slightly  embarrassed  at 
finding  herself  alone,  for  the  first  time,  saving  the  little 
Effie,  with  the  negro  members  of  the  household.  It  was 
a  mystery  to  her  how  they  could  all  find  employment  in 
so  small  a  family,  yet  it  was  astonishing  how  much  they 
found  to  do.  There  was  the  cook,  who  had  an  under 
vassal  to  pick  up  chips,  tote  water  from  the  spring,  &c. ; 
the  washwomen,  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  wash  and 
iron  and  scrub  floors ;  Aunt  Kizzie,  the  nurse  and  plain 
seamstress — that  is,  she  cut  and  made  the  other  negroes' 
clothes,  hemmed  tea-towels,  sheets,  &c. ;  Netty,  the 
chambermaid  and  fine  seamstress,  the  maker  of  her 
master's  shirts  and  Effie's  wardrobe ;  Albert,  the  valet 
de  chambre  and  gentleman  at  large  ;  the  coachman,  who 
was   also   the  gardener ;  and  Jim,  who   did  a  little  of 


Zol  TIIE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

everything  and  not  much  of  anything,  pottering  about 
the  grounds,  mending  a  broken  paling,  sawing  off  a  dried 
branch,  making  the  kitchen  fires,  and  airing  Crissy's 
clothes.  Then,  there  was  Kizzie's  mother,  an  infirm  old 
Voman,  who  had  a  nice  little  cabin  of  her  own,  where 
he  sat  with  a  white  handkerchief  pinned  under  her 
chin,  not  much  whiter  than  her  wool,  knitting  or  patch- 
ing, or  holding  the  baby,  if  there  happened  to  be  one  in 
the  establishment.  She  was  a  kind  of  elect  lady,  to 
whom  all  paid  respect  and  reverence.  She  was  a  sim- 
ple-hearted, pious  old  soul,  who  had  been  favoured  with 
marvellous  revelations  from  the  other  world,  and  thus 
acquired  the  influence  of  a  prophetess  among  her  peo- 
ple. She  had  seen  three  white  doves  sitting  one  moon- 
light night  at  the  head  of  her  old  mistress's  grave ;  she 
had  heard  a  voice  from  heaven,  telling  her  "  that  her 
sins  were  forgiven ;"  and  once,  when  she  wa3  praying 
and  asked  the  Lord  to  give  her  a  token  that  her  prayer 
was  heard,  a  piece  of  white  paper  flew  into  the  window, 
and  rested  right  on  the  top  of  her  head.  It  w,ould  have 
been  cruel  to  have  wrested  from  old  Dicey  her  unques- 
tioning faith  in  these  miracles,  it  made  her  so  happy. 
The  horse-shoe  suspended  over  her  door  did  no  harm  to 
others,  and  a  great  deal  of  fancied  good  to  herself.  The 
vial  filled  with  a  decoction  of  bitter  herbs,  which  was 
deposited  under  the  threshold,  hurt  nobody,  and  was  a 
charm  of  great  power  in  her  estimation.  If  any  one 
could  find  any  poor,  old,  infirm  woman  at  the  North, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         233 

happier  than  Dicey,  more  kindly  treated,  more  amply 
provided  for,  living  in  a  more  nicely  furnished  cabin, 
and  more  comfortably  clothed,  we  should  like  to  see  them 
and  congratulate  them  on  their  favoured  destiny.  Did 
you  ever  see  a  "whiter  counterpane  than  that  spread  as 
smooth  as  glass  over  Dicey's  bed  ?  Look  at  her  pillow- 
slips, all  luxuriating  in  broad,  flaunting  ruffles.  Sleep 
must  come  down  in  state  when  such  royal  accommoda- 
tions await  it.  But  that  counterpane,  and  those  pillow- 
slips, were  not  intended  for  the  dark  unseeing  night. 
They  wrere  taken  off  when  bedtime  arrived,  and  more 
plebeian  ones  substituted.  There  is  nothing  in  which 
the  negress  prides  herself  so  much  as  a  nice  bed.  She 
saves  all  the  feathers  she  can  get  held  of,  till  they  form 
a  mass  larae  enough  to  be  diffused  with  generous  thick- 
ness over  the  given  surface,  and  then  makes  a  bed  which 
she  is  for  ever  sunning  and  adorning.  It  is  true  they 
can  roll  themselves  in  a  blanket  and  sleep  as  soundly  on 
the  bare  floor,  but  they  must  have  the  bed  to  look  at  and 
admire.  We  have  been  more  particular  in  describing 
this  little  cabin,  because  an  old  Aunt  Dicey  is  found  in 
almost  every  large  household  establishment  at  the  South. 
The  old  family  nurse,  often  the  tutelary  genius  of  three 
generations,  the  faithful  servant,  who  has  devoted  the 
vigour  of  her  youth  and  the  energies  of  her  womanhood 
to  her  master's  interests,  and  to  his  children's  service, 
and  dandling  his  children's  children  on  her  aged  knees, 
looks    upon    them    with    worshipping    tenderness,    and 


234  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

dreams  that  the  babes  of  Paradise  are  cradled  in  her 
dusky  arms.  Dicey  had  been  the  nurse  of  Moreland's 
mother,  she  had  been  his  own  nurse,  and  now  in  gratitude 
and  affection  he  drew  around  the  evening  twilight  of  her 
existence  the  curtain  of  repose,  that  she  might  wait  in 
quietude  and  peace  the  dawning  of  an  eternal  morning. 
It  may  be  said  that  this  is  a  remarkable  instance,  but 
it  is  not  so.  Cruel  indeed  is  the  master  or  mistress  who 
imposes  a  hard  task  on  an  aged  slave,  or  leaves  them  to 
neglect  and  suffering ;  and  the  ban  of  society  rests  upon 
them.  We  have  seen  a  whole  family  drowned  in  tears 
by  the  death-bed  of  a  slave  :  the  head  of  the  strong 
man  bowed  on  his  breast  in  wordless  sorrow,  while  wo- 
man's softer  soul 

"in  woe  dissolved  aloud."  ♦ 

We  will  pause  a  moment  in  our  story,  to  relate  an 
incident  which  occurred  when  we  were  a  guest  of  the 
household,  and  eye  and  ear-witness  of  its  truth.  Per- 
haps it  may  add  force  to  the  illustration,  if  we  say  that 
our  hero  belonged  to  the  governor  of  the  state,  whose 
body-servant  and  coachman  he  had  been  for  many  years. 

It  was  a  bright,  clear,  winter's  morning,  when  Lem 
harnessed  his  master's  fine  black  horses — a  span  very 
precious  to  the  governor's  heart — to  the  wagon,  and 
drove  them  into  the  woods  for  a  load  of  pine.  In  felling 
a  tree,  the  trunk  fell  upon  his  own  body  and  one  of  the 
noble  horses,  which  was  killed  instantaneously  by  the 


THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN    BRIDE.  l.dO 

crash.  A  young  son  or  nephew  of  the  governor,  who 
was  riding  about  the  woods  on  horseback,  witnessed  the 
accident,  heard  the  groans  of  Lem,  who  lay  mangled 
and  bruised  under  the  gray,  old,  crushing  trunk,  and, 
flying  homeward  in  grief  and  terror,  told  the  story  of 
his  danger  and  sufferings.  His  mistress  wept  unre- 
strainedly ;  the  children  burst  forth  into  audible  demon- 
strations of  sorrow. 

"Father  !"  said  the  boy  who  brought  the  tidings,  "it 
is  your  best  horse  that  is  killed,  your  blackest  and 
strongest." 

"I  don't  care,"  exclaimed  the  governor,  wringing  his 
hands,  "  if  both  horses  are  killed,  if  poor  Lem  is  spared. 
Give  me  that  horse  directly.  Take  another,  and  go 
after  Dr.  H*****.  Ride  like  a  streak  of  lightning,  and 
tell  him  to  meet  me  in  the  woods.  Wife,  have  a  bed  sent 
to  spread  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon." 

It  was  a  sad  and  touching  scene  when  Lem  was 
brought  home,  half-fainting  from  excessive  agony.  Yet 
amidst  the  sadness  one  could  hardly  forbear  smiling  at 
the  strange  manner  in  which  his  wife  expressed  her 
grief.  She  was  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  African  church  ; 
but  her  husband,  though  faithful,  honest,  temperate, 
industrious,  and  of  irreproachable  morality,  had  never 
made  a  profession  of  religion. 

"  Oh,  marcy  !  Lord  a  marcy !"  she  cried  in  piteous 
and  bewailing  accents ;  "  I  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much, 
'cause   the   Lord  a  mighty  done  it ;  but  Lem  is  sicli  a 


236  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

sinner,  sich  an  awful  sinner.  He  ain't  fit  to  die.  Oh ! 
oh !  how  awful  I'll  feel  way  up  in  heaven,  singing  the 
praises  of  the  kingdom,  when  I  see  Lem  way  down  in 
the  great  black  pit.  Lord  have  marcy,  and  make  him 
'pent  of  his  'niquity." 

"  Hush,"  said  the  eldest  boy,  in  indignant  tones  ;  "  if 
Lem  don't  get  to  heaven  you  won't,  nor  any  of  the  rest 
of  us." 

"We  must  have  a  light  elastic  mattress,"  cried  the 
Doctor,  "to  lay  him  on.     This  is  too  hard." 

"  Take  mine,"  exclaimed  his  mistress  ;  "  it  is  the  best 
in  the  house." 

Immediately,  with  her  own  hands,  she  bared  her  bed 
of  its  covering,  and  sent  her  new,  unsoiled  mattress  to 
be  placed  under  the  negro's  bleeding  limbs.  She  sent 
him  two  sheets  of  soft,  fine  linen,  that  he  might  have 
every  appliance  that  luxury  could  furnish  to  soothe  his 
sufferings.  His  thigh-bone  was  broken,  his  limbs  man- 
gled and  torn,  and  it  was  thought  he  had  received  some 
internal  injury  that  might  prove  fatal.  Never  have  we 
seen  a  sick  person  more  carefully,  tenderly  watched. 

"If  I  was  the  Gubenor  hisself,"  said  he,  tears  of 
gratitude  streaming  from  his  eyes,  "  I  couldn't  hab  no 
more  done  for  me.  I  most  willing  to  die,  eberybody  so 
good  to  poor  Lem." 

After  months  of  anxious  and  unwearied  care  and 
watching,  he  recovered  the  use  of  his  limbs,  and  then 
gradually  his  strength  returned ;  and  to  the  inexpress- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        231 

ible  joy  of  his  better  half  professed  the  religion  whose 
influences  had  long  been  acting  on  his  heart.  In  a 
letter  written  by  his  mistress,  some  time  after,  she  thus 
affectingly  alludes  to  the  death  of  his  wife : — 

"We  are  all  in  deep  affliction  for  the  loss  of  Charity, 
our  old  and  faithfully  attached  servant  and  friend.  She 
belonged  to  my  mother,  and  loved  me,  and  my  children 
after  me,  as  if  we  were  her  own  children.  She  was  so 
much  beloved  by  us  all,  that  it  seems  as  if  the  void 
made  in  our  household  can  never  be  filled.  I  have  been 
dreading  this  event,  but  it  is  hard  to  be  reconciled  to  it." 

Why  cannot  those  who  speak  and  write  bitter 
things  of  the  South,  record  such  incidents  as  these, 
when  they  are  far,  far  more  frequent  than  the  dark 
scenes  which  they  seem  to  take  a  strange  delight  in 
depicting  in  the  blackest,  most  revolting  colours  ?  Why 
do  they  pass  over  everything  that  is  fair  and  pleasant 
to  the  moral  sense,  and  gather  every  shadow,  which, 
darkening  under  their  touch,  rolls  into  a  mass  of  gloom 
and  horror,  oppressive  and  sickening  to  the  soul  ?  Why 
are  they  ready  to  believe  the  most  awful  tales  of  the 
abuse  of  the  slave  which  imagination  can  conceive  and 
calumny  invent,  and  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  history  of 
the  master's  kindness,  humanity,  and  benevolence  i 
Why,  with  frantic  zeal,  do  they  light  the  brand  of  dis- 
cord, and  throw  it  blazing  into  the  already  burning  heart 
of  a  community,  when  the  stars  of  the  Union  may  be 

150 


238  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

quenched  in  the  smoking,  and  the  American  eagle  flap 
its  wings  in  blood  ? 

Would  it  not  be  well  to  pause  and  think  of  the  con- 
sequences of  all  this  ?  Can  you  sever  the  interests  of 
the  North  and  the  South  without  lifting  a  fratricidal 
hand  ?  Sir,  perhaps  you  have  a  son,  who,  finding  no 
outlet  for  his  energies,  no  field  of  enterprise  in  a  New 
England  clime,  has  come  an  adventurer  to  the  South, 
and  made  a  fortune  from  its  rich  resources.  He  has 
married  one  of  its  dark-eyed  daughters,  and  the  blood 
of  the  North  and  the  South  mingles  in  the  veins  of 
their  children.  Woman !  it  may  be  that  you  have  a 
daughter  or  a  sister  wedded  to  one  of  the  sons  of  the 
South,  whose  interests  and  affections  are  so  closely 
entwined  with  his,  that  the  stroke  aimed  at  one  must 
cut  the  life-chords  of  the  other.  Man !  you  have  a 
friend,  the  friend  and  brother  of  your  youth,  whom  you 
once  loved  as  your  own  soul,  whose  path  of  life  diverg- 
ing from  your  own  has  led  him  to  seek  a  home  beneath 
a  Southern  sky.  Here  he  lives  prosperous  and  happy, 
and  the  fragrant  gale  that  fans  his  brow  whispers  to 
him  sweet  memories  of  his  early  days,  and  the  friends 
who  then  made  the  sunshine  of  his  life.  It  whispers  to 
iim  of  you,  whom  he  left  on  your  native  granite  hills, 
and  his  heart  throbs  over  the  reminiscences  of  child- 
hood. 

Sir,  if  through  your  instrumentality  the  fires  of  insur- 
rection are  kindled  in  the  land,  and  the  knife  sharpened 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE  %\li 

in  the  hand  of  the  assassin,  the  blood  of  vu^r  son  may 
cry  to  you  from  the  ground;  your  daughter,  clasping 
her  innocent  babes  to  her'  bosom,  may  lift  her  dying 
eyes  to  heaven,  feeling  the  conviction,  keener  than  her 
last  death-pang,  that  a  father's  hand  guided  the  blow 
of  which  she  is  the  victim.  Your  sister,  your  brother, 
your  friend  may  rise  up  in  juclgm/" -A  against  you,  when 
their  accusing  spirits  meet  yoir  s  at  the  bar  of  God  ! 
Have  you  not  said,  have  you  not  written,  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  the  slave  to  plunge  the  steel  in  the  bosom  of  his 
master,  rather  than  submit  the  vassal  of  his  will  ? — that 
it  would  be  right  to  roll  a  fiery  wave  of  insurgency  over 
his  sleeping  dwelling,  and  Lave  only  the  "blackness  of 
ashes  to  mark  where  it  stood  !" 

England,  too,  lifts  her  coroneted  brow,  and  stretches 
out  her  jewelled  hands  over  the  waters  to  loosen  the 
fetters  of  the  African,  and  pour  the  vials  of  avenging 
wrath  on  the  tyrants  who  enthral  him. 

Thou !  on  whose  magnificent  empire  the  sun  never 
casts  its  setting  ray,  turn  thy  glorious  eye  to  the  slaves 
whose  life-blood  thou  art  draining  at  the  threshold  of 
thy  own  doors.  See  that  pale  and  ghastly  and  multitu- 
dinous band  of  females  imprisoned  within  close  and 
narrow  walls,  most  of  them  in  the  springtime  of  life ; 
but,  oh  !  what  a  cold,  blighted,  barren  spring  ! 

"With  fingers  weary  and  worn, 
With  eyelids  heavy  and  red, 
These  women  sit,  in  unwomanly  rags, 
Plying  their  uccdlc  and  thread," 


240  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

And  it  is  "stitch,  stitch,  stitch"  from  the  chill  gray 
morning  twilight,  to  the  dim  gray  evening  twilight,  and 
then,  by  the  light  of  a  dripping  candle,  they  "  stitch, 
stitch,  stitch,7'  till  the  long,  long  midnight  hour;  nay, 
more,  till  one,  two,  three  o'clock  of  another  day,  then, 
crawling  into  some  miserable,  crowded,  airless  hole,  lie 
down  to  a  few  feverish,  restless,  unrefreshing  dreams. 
And  so  it  goes  on  for  weeks,  months,  and  years,  till  the 
needle  drops  from  their  poor  wasted  fingers,  and  they 
lie  in  a  deeper,  colder,  but  scarcely  darker  bed.  You 
may  say  that  this  mode  of  existence  is  voluntary  on  their 
part ;  that  they  are  free,  and  freedom  is  sufficient  of 
itself  to  enrich  the  most  abject  and  miserable  of  human 
beings.  It  is  false.  They  are  not  free.  Poverty,  with 
a  scourge  of  iron  and  a  scorpion  lash,  stands  behind 
them  and  urges  on  the  life-consuming  task.  Starvation, 
with  grim,  skeleton  features,  and  wild,  hollow  eyes,  stares 
them  in  the  face,  and  shame  and  dishonour  stand  on 
either  side,  weaving  a  winding  sheet  for  their  souls. 
They  have  no  choice  left.  They  must  work  or  starve  ; 
work  or  die ;  work  or  sell  themselves  to  the  demon  of 
temptation.  Freedom !  God  of  the  white  man,  as  well 
as  the  black,  if  this  is  freedom,  give  us  bondage  and 
chains  instead.  Where,  in  all  the  broad  lands  of  the 
South,  is  a  negro  doomed  to  work  for  eighteen  or  twenty 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  in  silence  and  hopelessness 
and  anguish  that  passeth  show  ?  Do  songs  ever  gush 
from  those  bloodless,  pallid  lips  ?     Do  those  weary  feet 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         241 

ever  spring  in  the  light  and  joyous  dance?  Alas  !  no  ! 
The  breath  of  life  comes  struggling  from  the  weak  and 
wasting  lungs,  and  every  step  is  impeded  by  the  dull, 
heavy,  leaden  weight  of  despair. 

Imperial  England !  Island-queen  of  the  ocean ! 
There  are  thousands  of  these  pallid  slaves,  whose  bleed- 
ing hearts  are  bound  in  iron  chains  to  the  chariot  wheels 
of  thy  wealth  and  power  ;  whose  suiferings  the  African 
may  well  pity,  rejoicing  in  his  happier  lot.  And  yet 
one  gem  from  your  royal  diadem  would  scatter  plenty 
mid  these  starving  throngs.  Bring  forth  your  mountain 
of  light,  whose  focal  splendours  illuminated  the  crystal 
walls  that  enclosed  a  congregated  world — bring  it  forth, 
fuse  it  (perchance  the  chemic  miracle  may  be  performed) 
in  the  flaming  forge  of  human  suffering,  and  pour  it  in 
dazzling  streams  through  the  dry,  deep  channels  of 
poverty  and  want  Bring  forth  your  glittering  dia- 
monds, your  costly  pearls,  your  jewels  and  precious 
stones,  for  the  relief  of  your  famishing  vassals,  and  then 
talk  of  philanthropy,  and  justice,  and  compassion.  In 
the  great  day  of  revelation,  when  the  earth  and  the 
ocean  shall  give  up  their  dead,  and  the  different  races 
of  men  stand  before  the  judgment  ba,r  of  God,  think 
you  no  cry  for  vengeance  on  the  oppressed  will  be  heard, 
save  from  the  dusky  lips  of  the  African  ?  that  no  scars 
of  suffering  will  be  seen  on  any  soul  but  his  ?  Methinks, 
on  that  day,  when  the  motives  of  every  act,  the  spring 
of  every  thought   will  be  visible   in   the  full  blaze  of 


242  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

eternity,  the  judgments  of  God  will  be  found  very  dif- 
ferent from  those  of  man,  and  many  a  spirit  on  whom 
the  curse  of  public  opinion  has  fallen  with  withering 
power,  will  be  exalted  to  the  right  hand  of  glory,  and 
crowned  with  immortal  honours.  There  will  be  many  a 
grateful  Lem,  whose  tears  of  gratitude  have  been  pre- 
served in  the  vials  of  the  saints ;  many  a  good  old  Di- 
cey, who  will  bless  the  humane  master,  who  made  her 
declining  years  serene  as  an  autumn  sunset. 

And  hark  !  a  voice  as  of  many  meeting  waters,  comes 
from  the  excellent  glory — 

"  I  will  say  to  the  North,  give  up,  and  to  the  South, 
keep  not  back :  bring  my  sons  from  far,  and  my  daugh- 
ters from  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

"Even  every  one  that  is  called  by  my  name,  for  I 
have  created  him  for'  my  glory.  I  have  formed  him. 
Yea,  I  have  made  him. 

"  Bring  forth  the  blind  that  have  eyes,  and  the  deaf 
that  have  ears. 

"Let  all  the  nations  be  gathered  together,  and  let  the 
people  be  assembled.  Who  among  them  can  declare 
this,  and  shew  us  former  things  ?  Let  them  bring  forth 
their  witnesses,  that  they  may  be  justified ;  or  let  them 
hear,  and  say — It  is  truth."* 

*  Benjamin  Walker,  Esq.,  of  Jamaica,  writing  to  his  brother  in 
Charleston,  S.  C,  uses  the  subjoined  language.  He  is  an  English- 
man, who  has  resided  in  the  island  for  many  years,  and,  after  a  per- 
sonal investigation  of  the  abolition  operations  of  his  own  government, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        243 

says — "  I  hope  and  trust  you  will  never  be  imbued  with  anti-slavery 
doctrines :  and  if  many  could  witness  the  ruin  of  interest,  both  moral 
and  material,  the  misery  of  families,  and  the  desolation  of  all  which 
I  now  see  around  me,  occasioned  by  the  emancipation  of  the  negroes, 
there  would  be  less  agitation  in  your  country  on  that  much-vexed 
question.  I  hope  the  people  of  the  South  'will  hold  their  own. 
Emancipation  means  confiscation  and  misery  to  both  races.  Let 
people  come  to  Jamaica  and  judge  for  themselves,  and  witness  the 
white  race  driven  from  their  hearth  and  home  by  the  destructive 
policy  of  the  mother  country.  An  Exodus  of  the  white  race  has 
already  commenced,  and  I  am  preparing  to  join  in  the  stream,  and 
abandon  a  worthless  and  ruined  country." 


CHAPTER  X. 

We  break,  for  the  first  time,  the  unity  of  our  story,  to 
follow  Ildegerte  and  her  invalid  husband  to  the  Western 
city.  We  leave  Eulalia,  for  a  while,  happy  beyond  the 
charter  of  her  sex,  receiving  new  and  bright  impressions, 
and  transmitting  them  with  added  brightness  to  her 
Northern  kindred.  There  is  scarcely  a  ripple  now  on 
the  smooth  wave  on  which  she  is  borne, — no  cloud  on 
the  blue  heaven  that  bends  over  her,  in  sunny  or  in 
starry  love ;  but,  by  and  by,  there  may  be  darkness 
for  brightness,  and  angry  billows  for  smoothness,  and 
the  storm-gale  of  the  North  sweep  cold  and  blighting 
over  her  Southern  bower.  Rejoice,  in  thy  happiness, 
sweet  Eulalia !  gather  up  the  manna  that  falls  in  a 
honey-shower  upon  thy  path,  but  forget  not  to  garner 
a  portion  for  the  day  when  none  may  fall. 

Richard  Laurens  appeared  to  acquire  new  life  and 
vigour  as  the  distance  widened  between  him  and  his 
Southern  home,  and,  just  in  proportion,  the  spirits  of 
Ildegerte  sparkled  and  bounded  in  their  original  bril- 

(244) 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        245 

liancy  and  elasticity.  Crissy  remained  taciturn  and 
rather  sullen  for  some  time,  brooding  over  the  remem- 
brance of  the  goods  and  chattels  she  was  compelled  to 
leave  behind ;  but  gradually  her  gloom  dispersed  before 
he  generous  promises  of  Ildegerte,  who  pledged  herself 
*o  reward  her  a  hundredfold  for  every  sacrifice  she  had 
required.  Everything  was  novel  and  therefore  exciting 
to  the  young  and  ardent  Southerner.  She  had  never 
before  left  the  boundaries  of  her  native  state,  having 
been  educated  at  a  Southern  college,  and  she  carried 
the  freshness,  brightness,  and  impulsiveness  of  a  child 
into  scenes  where  she  was  to  learn  some  of  the  bitterest 
experiences  of  the  life  of  woman. 

When  borne  upon  the  Mississippi's  deep,  majestic 
stream,  margined  by  such  grandeur  and  luxuriancy,  she 
was  filled  with  the  most  enthusiastic  admiration ;  and 
when  gliding  on  the  silver  bosom  of  its  gentler  tributary, 
Ohio,  she  was  equally  enchanted. 

The  weather  was  delightful,  having  the  mild,  uniform 
temperature  of  departing  summer.  Everything  seemed 
to  favour  the  travellers,  and  Ildegerte  declared  her 
determination  to  travel  every  year  in  the  warm  season. 

"  Next  summer,  Richard,  we  will  go  to  Saratoga  and 
Niagara ;  the  summer  after,  to  Europe.  Russell  and 
Eulalia  will  go  too — and  what  a  charming  family  party 
we  shall  make  !  There  is  so  much  to  see  and  admire  in 
the  world,  it  is  a  shame  to  stay  in  one  place  all  the  time, 
looking  at  the  same  things." 


246  TIIE  planter's  northern  bride. 

"  If  I  live,  Ildegerte." 

"But  you  are  so  much  better,  Richard.  You  get 
better  every  day.  Indeed,  you  are  almost  well.  I 
thought  it  was  only  a  long  protracted  cold  that  had 
weakened  your  lungs.  I  will  not  hear  that  cold  and 
doubting  if.  Is  he  not  a  thousand  times  better,  Crissy, 
than  when  we  left  home  ?" 

"  I  think  Mars.  Richard  does  look  a  heap  better 
than  he  did.     I  'spect  he  go  back  right  fat  and  peart." 

Ildegerte  and  Richard  both  laughed  at  his  prospective 
obesity,  for  in  his  most  robust  days  he  had  more  of  the 
slender  grace  of  the  stripling  than  the  vigorous  propor- 
tions of  the  man. 

"  There  is  room  for  improvement  in  you  too,  Crissy," 
said  she,  playfully  touching  the  sink- holes  in  her  gray- 
ish-black cheeks.  "You  are  something  of  Pharaoh's 
lean  kine  order.  I  am  afraid  the  people  will  think  we 
don't  use  you  well.  You  must  tell  them  you  get  a 
plenty  to  eat  and  drink — and  wear  too,  if  I  have  doomed 
you  to  a  small  trunk  in  travelling.  You  must  look 
smart  and  bright,  Crissy,  and  put  off  that  doiun  way  of 
yours." 

"I  wants  to  see  Jim  and  the  children,  missus." 

"And  the  big  chest,  Crissy.  Nevermind.  You  will 
see  them  all  soon.  Don't  /want  to  see  my  brother,  and 
his  sweet  wife,  and  that  dear  little  witch  of  an  Effie  ? 
And  don't  I  wan't  to  see  old  Dicey,  and  Aunt  Kizzie, 
and  all  the  precious  darkies?" 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         247 

"  You  have  got  him  by  you,  you  loves  best  of  all, 
missus.  'Spose  he  way  off — 'spose  you  never  see  him 
no  more — 'spect  you  wouldn't  feel  funny,  missus,  like 
you  do  now?" 

"And  do  you  really  love  Jim  so  much,  Crissy? 
had  an  idea  that  you  thought  him  inferior  to  you ;  that 
you  didn't  think  him  very  smart  or  genteel.     I  am  glad 
you  are  such  an  affectionate  wife." 

There  was  a  merry  sparkle  in  Ildegerte's  eye,  that 
illumined  the  meaning  of  her  words. 

"  I  knows  Jim  ain't  none  of  the  smartest,"  said  Crissy, 
with  a  conscious  expression ;  "  but  he's  the  willingest 
creatur  and  the  best  conditioned  that  ever  was.  It 
'pears  now  like  I  never  sot  as  much  by  him  as  I 
oughter." 

"We  never  appreciate  the  blessings  within  our  reach," 
said  Ildegerte ;  "but  oh!  Richard," — turning  to  her 
husband,  who  was  listening  to  the  voice  of  the  dashing 
wavelets — "  when  you  are  restored  to  perfect  health  I 
will  always  prize  the  blessing,  and  be  the  most  contented 
and  grateful  of  human  beings." 

"  For  your  sake,  more  than  my  own,  I  pray  for 
returning  health,"  he  replied,  gratefully  pressing  the 
beautiful  white  hand  that  was  laid  gently  on  his  arm. 
"  I  sometimes  think  I  have  been  very  selfish  in  taking 
you  with  me,  when  you  may  be  left  alone  in  a  land  of 
strangers.  I  blame  myself,  too,  for  not  taking  Albert, 
whom  your  brother  pressed  so  earnestly  upon  me ;  but  I 


248  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

thought  it  would  be  an  admission  of  weakness  and  help- 
lessness on  my  part,  which  I  shrunk  from  acknowledging. 
It  seemed  so  unnecessary,  such  a  superfluous  expense. 
You  will  have  Crissy,  however,  whatever  may  happen, 
on  whose  attachment  and  fidelity  you  can  rely  with  im- 
plicit confidence." 

The  white  hand  was  pressed  upon  his  lips,  while  she 
called  his  attention  to  the  flowering  vines  that  hung 
trailing  from  tree  to  tree,  and  festooned  the  shore  with 
rich  and  gaudy  wreaths.  She  would  not  allow  him  to 
give  utterance  to  one  gloomy  thought,  one  sad  misgiving. 
If  every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining,  that  which  hung  over 
them  was  fringed  by  her  with  a  golden  edging  too. 

As  they  approached  the  city  to  which  they  were 
bound,  which  rose  like  a  Queen  above  the  stream  that 
rolled  in  majesty  at  its  feet,  they  gazed  with  rapture  at 
the  beautiful  panorama  presented  to  the  view.  Crown- 
ing the  gradually  ascending  shore,  Cincinnati  looked 
down  in  its  loftiness,  across  the  severing  river,  on  the 
green  plains  of  Kentucky,  that  stretched  out  before  it. 
Its  spires  and  domes  were  defined  on  a  misty  blue  back- 
ground of  swelling  hills.  These  beautiful  hills  were 
enriched  by  cultivation ;  and  many  a  lordly  mansion 
and  elegant  cottage  seemed  climbing  their  verdant 
heights,  or  reigned  enthroned  on  their  brows.  They 
arrived  at  an  appropriate  hour ;  for  all  the  pomp  of 
closing  day  was  gathering  in  the  West  to  gild  and  beau- 
tify its  Queen.     The  blue,  misty  hills  put  on  a  drapery 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         249 

of  golden  purple ;  golden  arrows,  tipped  with  fire,  shot 
up  from  the  roofs  and  turrets  and  fanes ;  the  dark  blue 
river  changed  to  glowing  saffron  and  rippling  crimson ; 
and  the  emerald  fields  of  Kentucky  sparkled  with  the 
gleam  of  the  topaz.  The  dark  eyes  of  Ildegerte  re- 
flected the  radiance,  and  even  the  pale  blue  orbs  of 
Richard  were  lighted  up  with  their  wonted  lustre. 

" Beautiful  ?  beautiful !"  exclaimed  Ildegerte.  "Is  not 
this  glorious  sun-burst  an  omen  of  joy,  Richard?  I  hail 
it  as  such." 

"And  I  too,  am  catching  the  inspiration  of  your  hopes," 
cried  Richard,  a  bright  colour  kindling  in  his  face. 
"This  city  of  refuge,"  continued  he,  quoting  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture,  "  let  me  reach  it,  and  my  soul  shall 
live  !" 

"  Beautiful !"  repeated  Ildegerte.    "  Is  it  not,  Crissy  ?" 

She  pitied  the  lonely  Crissy — without  any  companion 
of  her  own  colour — and  was  constantly  encouraging  her 
to  express  her  thoughts  and  feelings  to  her. 

"La,  missus,  it  goes  up  like  a  big  corn-hill.  Is  this 
where  the  niggers  is  all  free?" 

"YeSjjQrissy,  but  I  don't  believe  one  of  them  is  half 
as  well  off  as  you  are.     Do  you?" 

"Don't  know,  missus  ;  don't  know  nothing  'bout  them. 
I'm  mighty  well  satisfied ;  got  nothing  to  complain  of. 
Don't  see  what  a  body  want  more." 

Crissy  never  was  demonstrative,  like  Kizzie.  Their 
manner  differed  as  much  as  the  warm,  shining  black 


250  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

skin  of  the  one,  from  the  cold,  grayish  darkness  of  tho 
other. 

"I  don't  "want  to  see  none  of  'em,  while  I  stay,"  she 
added,  after  looking  up  earnestly  into  the  streets  of  the 
city,  and  turning  up  her  nose  with  an  expression  of  con- 
tempt. "I  'spise  the  free  niggers  as  much  as  I  do  poor 
white  folks." 

"But  you  should  not  despise  poverty,  Crissy,  nor  ne- 
groes, either,  because  they  are  free.  If  I  die  before 
you,  I  am  going  to  set  you  free.  Would  not  you  like 
that?" 

"Don't  want  to  be  free,  Miss  Ilda;  heap  rather  live 
with  you  and  Mars.  Richard.  Don't  know  how  to  take 
care  of  myself,  no  how.  Jim  'most  a  fool.  What'll  I 
do  with  the  childen  ?  Lord  bless  you,  missus !  don't 
say  nothing  more  'bout  that.  Wish  I  was  at  home 
agin.     'Pears  like  I  been  gone  a  year." 

With  such  sentiments  as  these,  Crissy  followed  her 
mistress  to  the  hotel,  which  was  to  be  her  temporary 
home,  wondering  what  it  was  that  made  people  free 
there  more  than  in  any  other  place.  She  had  heard  so 
much  talk  about  the  free  States,  she  expected  to  see  an 
entirely  different  aspect  of  nature.  She  expected  to 
breathe  a  different  atmosphere,  and  to  see  a  set  of  peo- 
ple looking  very  different  from  any  she  had  seen  before. 
She  glanced  from  one  side  to  the  other,  with  a  vague 
dread  of  being  pounced  upon  and  carried  off,  where  she 
would  never  see  her  mistress,  or  Jim,  or  her  hoarded 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  251 

possessions  any  more.  She  watched  the  servants  at  the 
hotel  very  narrowly,  and  thought  they  did  not  look  any 
happier  than  her  fellow-labourers  at  home,  nay,  not 
half  as  happy,  and  she  was  sure  they  had  to  work  a 
great  deal  harder. 

Richard,  who  had  despatched  a  note  to  Dr.  Darley  soon 
after  his  arrival,  waited  his  coming  with  mingled  hope 
and  fear.  He  thought  he  could  ascertain,  from  one 
glance  of  his  penetrating  and  truth-beaming  eye,  the 
reality  of  his  condition.  When  the  servant  announced 
that  he  was  below,  he  turned  excessively  pale,  and  sunk 
back  in  his  chair,  trembling  with  agitation. 

"I  will  go  and  meet  him,"  exclaimed  Ildegerte,  "and 
bring  him  here.  In  the  mean  time,  pray  get  composed, 
Richard.  He  will  think  you  a  great  deal  more  sick 
than  you  really  are,  and  then  you  will  be  discouraged." 

Ildegerte  hastened  to  meet  the  doctor,  in  the  confi- 
dence of  finding  a  friend  as  well  as  physician ;  one  on 
whose  kindness  and  sympathy  she  could  trustingly  rely, 
on  whose  wisdom  she  could  lean  for  counsel  and  guid- 
ance, whose  skill,  she  had  been  led  to  believe,  was  almost 
supernatural.  She  had  strong  reasons  of  her  own  for 
wishing  to  see  him  first ;  and,  without  hesitation  or  em- 
barrassment, she  introduced  herself  as  Mrs.  Laurens, 
the  wife  of  his  former  student.  The  doctor  rose  at  her 
entrance,  and,  making  at  first  a  very  deep  and  rather 
fonnalbow,  advanced  with  extended  hand  and  smiling  eye 
to  greet  her. 


252  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"Is  this  Dr.  Darley?"  was  Ildegerte's  first  thought. 
"I  expected  to  have  seen  a  much  older-looking  man." 

And  this  was  the  expectation  of  almost  every  one, 
who,  being  familiar  with  his  wide-spread  reputation, 
associated  his  image  with  the  venerable  characteristics 
of  age.  He  was  past  the  meridian  of  his  days,  but  youth 
lingered  in  the  short,  crisped  curls  of  his  brown  hair, 
undimmed  by  a  single  touch  of  frostiness  ;  youth 
sparkled  in  the  bright,  intense,  smiling  glance  of  his 
grayish  eye,  and  the  earnest,  animated  expression  of  his 
whole  countenance.  Intellect,  in  all  its  youthful  fresh- 
ness and  vigour,  beamed  upon  his  features,  and,  what  to 
Ildegerte  was  far  more  attractive,  a  generous,  noble 
heart,  in  all  its  young  warmth  of  feeling,  unchilled  by 
contact  with  a  cold  and  selfish  world,  imparted  fervour 
and  interest  to  his  whole  face. 

The  doctor,  who  had  a  keen  perception  and  pure  love 
of  the  beautiful,  gazed  with  affectionate  admiration  on 
the  young  and  handsome  woman,  who  seemed  to  his 
poetic  imagination  a  rich  tropic  flower,  transplanted  to 
a  colder  clime.  Excitement  had  given  the  brilliant 
bloom  of  the  brunette  to  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  her 
eyes  had  that  velvet  blackness  so  seldom  seen,  but  so 
inexpressibly  bewitching. 

"Is  your  husband  very  ill?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone 
which  struck  her  as  grave  and  solemn,  in  contrast  with 
his  smiling  eye. 

"No,  sir.     I  think  he  is  convalescent  now.     He  has 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  253 

been  much  more  sick,  and  all  our  friends  feared  that  he 
was  in  danger  of  consumption.  I  believe,  now,  that  his 
cough  is  the  result  of  a  severe  cold.  He  has  such  un- 
bounded confidence  in  you,  he  feels  sure  that  if  he  has 
any  serious  malady,  you  can  heal  it.  I  wanted  to  see 
you  first,  doctor,  to  tell  you  that  you  cannot  judge  to- 
night how  he  really  is.  He  is  weary,  excited,  and  agi- 
tated. Do  not  let  him  think  he  is  ill.  Do  not  discou- 
rage him — he  will  be  so  much  better  to-morrow." 

"  Is  he  easily  discouraged  ?  is  he  prone  to  despon- 
dency?" inquired  the  doctor. 

"  No,  not  much, — that  is,  not  often ;  but  he  is  not 
near  as  hopeful  as  I  am." 

"  Are  you  alone  with  him  ?  Did  no  friends  accom- 
pany you?" 

"  No  one  but  a  faithful  black  woman.  She  is  a  host 
in  herself.     We  need  no  other  assistance." 

"  This  is  a  very  dangerous  place  to  bring  a  slave," 
said  the  doctor.  "I  wish  you  had  brought  a  white  sei- 
vant  instead.  Living,  as  we  do,  on  the  very  borders  of 
slavery,  our  city  is  the  resort  of  runaway  negroes ;  and, 
what  is  still  worse,  those  who  are  making  every  effort  to 
swell  their  number.  I  advise  you  to  keep  your  woman 
as  constantly  with  you  as  possible." 

"  Oh  !  sir,  I  have  no  fears  for  Crissy.     No  temptation, 

I  am  assured,  would  induce  her  to  leave  us.     She  is 

fidelity  itself,   and   is   very   strongly    attached   to   out 

family.     No,  no,  I  feel  very  easy  on  that  subject.     But 

151 


254  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Richard,  I  know,  feels  very  impatient  to  see  you,  and 
will  think  I  am  encroaching  on  his  rights." 

Leading  the  way,  with  a  light  step,  to  the  upper 
apartment,  appropriated  to  them,  she  ushered  in  the 
loctor,  watching  his  countenance,  as  he  addressed  her 
husband,  as  if  her  own  life  depended  upon  its  expres- 
sion. 

"  Why,  Laurens,"  cried  he,  giving  his  dry  and  feverish 
hand  a  long  and  affectionate  pressure,  "  is  this  the  way 
you  commence  your  professional  career  ?  I  taught  you 
to  heal  others,  not  to  be  sick  yourself." 

"I  have  come  to  you  for  invigoration,  doctor,"  replied 
the  young  man,  with  a  languid  smile.  "  I  already  feel 
the  inspiration  of  your  presence.  I  feel  so  much  better 
than  I  did  when  I  left  home,  I  fear  you  will  think  me 
foolish,  to  come.  Yet  I  can  never  regret  meeting  you 
again,  and  feeling  once  more  the  kindly  pressure  of  your 
guiding  hand." 

He  looked  earnestly,  thrillingly  in  his  face  as  he 
spoke,  while  the  fever-spot  burned  brightly  on  his  own. 
The  hand  which  had  pressed  his  so  affectionately,  now 
lingered  on  his  wrist,  and  he  knew  that  its  quick  pulsa- 
tions were  being  counted  with  professional  accuracy. 
Agitated  by  this  consciousness,  he  began  to  cough.  It 
was  a  short,  dry,  hacking  cough.  It  always  made 
Ildegerte  gasp  for  breath,  and  press  her  hand  on  her 
heart,  when  she  heard  it.  It  was  an  involuntary  motion, 
but  her  heart  literally  ached,  and  she  could  not  help 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  255 

pressing  it.  Yet  she  would  not  acknowledge  that  it  was 
an  alarming  cough, — it  was  only  an  obstinate  one,  and 
so  she  told  the  doctor.  As  he  suffered  the  pale  hand 
which  he  had  been  holding  to  slide  gently  from  his, 
she  caught  his  quick  and  quickly  receding  glance.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  the  bright,  merry  spark  that  burned 
there,  was  quenched  in  moisture.  There  was  an  expres- 
sion of  unutterable  sympathy,  compassion,  and  tender- 
ness, transient  as  lightning,  but  as  intense  too.  Ilde- 
gerte,  who  stood  a  little  behind  Richard's  chair,  turned 
pale,  and  cold  and  sick.  She  felt  as  if  his  death-war- 
rant had  been  pronounced,  and  that  hope  had  indeed 
bidden  the  world  farewell. 

"Come,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  cheerful  tone,  "what 
you  need  to-night  is  rest.  Your  nerves  are  excited. 
Your  pulse  quickened  at  my  touch  like  a  love-sick  girl's. 
We  must  cultivate  more  composure.  Recline  on  this 
sofa  and  put  yourself  perfectly  at  ease,  while  I  make 
myself  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Laurens." 

Ildegerte's  freezing  veins  thawed  in  the  kindly  warmth 
of  his  manner.  She  must  have  mistaken  his  glance. 
How  foolish,  how  childish  she  was !  What  a  baby  he 
would  think  her  !  She  would  show  herself  more  worthy 
of  his  respect !  She  soon  found  that  no  effort  was 
necessary  to  feel  interested  in  the  conversation  he  com- 
menced with  her,  while  Richard,  obedient  to  his  counsel, 
assumed  a  recumbent  position,  and  was  soon  folded  in 
tranquil   slumbers.     There   was   something  so  fresh,  so 


256  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

sparkling,  so  original  in  his  ideas,  it  seemed  as  if  every 
word  he  uttered  was  sprinkled  with  morning  dew.  There 
was  a  vein  of  poetry  and  romance,  too,  pervading  his 
mind,  like  golden  ore  imbedded  in  the  solid  rock.  He 
told  her  something  of  his  own  early  history ;  of  the  death 
of  his  wife,  whom  he  had  lost  in  the  bloom  and  beauty 
of  her  womanhood ;  of  his  belief  in  the  constancy,  the 
eternity  of  love ;  that  it  was  only  its  germ  that  was 
planted  on  earth ;  that  it  was  reserved  for  the  gales  of 
Paradise  to  fan  it  into  blossom. 

"I  do  not  feel  separated  from  my  wife,"  he  said,  his 
countenance  kindling  into  rapturous  emotion.  "  She  is 
still  associated  with  all  my  hopes  and  my  joys.  I  never 
read  the  works  of  genius  and  sensibility  without  feeling 
the  participation  of  her  sympathy.  I  never  listen  to 
the  sweet  strains  of  music  without  being  conscious  of  the 
presence  of  her  listening  spirit.  So  positive  to  me  is 
this  intimate  and  divine  communion,  that  I  should  no 
more  think  of  wedding  another  than  if  she  were  living 
and  breathing  at  my  side.  I  am  called  an  enthusiast. 
Perhaps  I  am  one ;  but  I  would  not  relinquish  this  abid- 
ing, inextinguishable  sense  of  her  continuing  love,  for 
all  else  the  world  can  offer.  Death  does  not  really 
divorce  us  from  the  object  of  our  affection.  It  only 
destroys  the  material  tie — the  spiritual,  the  immortal 
still  remains." 

"But  it  takes  from  us  the  form  we  love,"  said  Ikle- 
gevte,  shivering;   "it  lays  it  in  the  cold  grave.     Every- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         257 

thing  else  seems  so  shadowy,  so  unreal.  For  my  part, 
I  would  have  no  wish  to  survive  the  friend  I  loved  best 
on  earth.  One  coffin,  one  grave,  would  be  my  soul's 
prayer." 

"We  should  pray  rather  for  faith  to  sustain,  for 
patience  to  endure,  and  for  submission  and  resignation. 
The  silver  chords  which  bind  earthly  hearts  together 
must  be  broken.  If  they  writhe  and  struggle  under  the 
loosening  hand,  they  may  bleed  and  suffer  in  every  vein 
and  fibre,  but  they  will  nevertheless  be  torn  asunder. 
It  is  better  to  lie  still  and  be  gently  parted." 

"We  are  not  to  be  parted,  are  we?"  asked  she,  in  a 
very  low  voice,  impelled  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  as 
her  eye  rested  on  the  reclining  figure  of  Richard,  who 
lay  with  one  cheek  supported  by  his  hand  and  his  fair 
locks  partly  shading  the  other.  There  was  a  boyish 
grace  in  his  attitude,  which  combined  with  the  hectic 
bloom  of  his  complexion  to  throw  the  illusion  of  health 
around  him. 

"  God  alone  can  answer  that  question,"  he  answered, 
with  gentle  solemnity.  "  The  issues  of  life  and  death 
are  with  Him.  I  trust,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  have 
learned  to  look  to  him  as  a  Father,  as  well  as  a  God." 

Ildegerte  bowed  her  head,  but  the  tears  she  could  not 
suppress  glittered  in  the  lamplight.  Yes  !  he  was  pre- 
paring her — she  knew  it,  she  felt  it — for  the  coming 
blow.  Once  more  her  elastic  spirits  sunk,  and  a  cold 
shadow  flitted  over  her. 


258  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"You  "will  come  early  in  the  morning,  doctor,"  she 
said,  when  he  rose  to  take  leave,  "will  you  not?" 

"  Certainly;  'Richard  will  be  himself  then,  I  hope." 
Strange,  what  magic  there  may  be  in  a  few  little 
words!  This  old,  old  quotation, —  she  had  heard  it 
repeated  a  hundred  times,  and  yet  how  reviving  it 
sounded  !  Poor  Ilclegerte  ! — to  what  an  alternation  of 
hope  and  fear  was  she  doomed,  as  day  followed  day, 
without  fulfilling  her  constant,  unwearied  prophecy, 
"  He  will  be  better  to-morrow."  As  for  him,  he  had 
read  his  doom  in  Dr.  Darley's  undeceiving  eye.  He 
knew  that  he  must  die ;  and,  with  that  pliancy  with 
which  the  finite  will  bows  to. the  Infinite,  when  the 
inevitable  fiat  is  gone  forth,  he  yielded,  without  a  mur- 
mur. But  he  could  not  tell  Ilclegerte  the  terrible  truth, 
— he  could  not  rend  all  hope  from  her  bosom.  Often 
and  often,  had  Dr.  Darley  resolved  to  inform  her  of  the 
hopelessness  of  his  condition ;  but  she  had  a  strange, 
elusive  power  that  baffled  his  intentions.  Since  the  first 
night,  when  the  question  "  We  are  not  to  be  parted?" 
was  forced  irresistibly  from  her  lips,  she  had  never 
asked  him  his  opinion  of  his  patient ;  and  when  he 
began  to  express  it,  unasked,  she  would  turn  the  conver- 
sation at  once  into  a  different  channel,  find  an  excuse 
for  leaving  the  room,  or  for  being  occupied  with  some- 
thing present. 

In  the  mean  time,  Crissy  was  forming  new  acquaint- 
ances  and    acquiring    new  ideas.      Ildegerte  had   her 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         259 

meals  brought  to  her  own  room,  and  saw  nothing  of  the 
other  boarders ;  while  Crissy  ate  hers  in  the  kitchen 
with  the  servants,  and  as  she  was  a  stranger,  and  a 
slave,  she  was  an  object  of  peculiar  attention  to  them. 
By  attention,  we  do  not  mean  respect,  but  observation, 
curiosity.  They  evidently  thought  her  far  beneath 
them  in  position ;  and  Crissy  as  evidently  demeaned 
herself  as  a  being  of  superior  order.  If  they  turned 
up  their  noses  at  her,  she  turned  up  hers  at  them, 
till  there  was  a  kind  of  nasal  warfare  between  them. 
There  was  one  free  black  woman,  who  occupied  the 
place  of  an  underling,  whose  freedom  consisted  in  doing 
the  greatest  part  of  the  drudgery  of  the  kitchen,  and 
in  the  privilege  of  being  called  "  a  good-for-nothing 
nigger"  by  the  high-life-below-stairs  Irish  gentry.  Her 
name  was  Judy,  an  unpardonable  offence  to  one  of  the 
Irish  women,  whose  name  was  also  Judy,  and  who 
henceforth  denominated  herself  Julia.  Judy  must  have 
had  a  lower  extraction  than  Crissy,  for  she  did  not 
express  herself  with  half  the  elegance,  saying  "  dis 
and  dat,"  and  "gwine,"  and  "high  and  ki,"  and  all 
those  phrases  which  characterize  the  corn-field  negro. 
Crissy  pretended  she  had  never  heard  such  gibberish, 
and  the  Irish  brogue,  which  was  much  less  familiar  to 
her  ears,  she  pronounced  a  horrible  jargon.  There  were 
three  distinct  classes  in  the  kitchen.  The  Irish  and 
German  servants  constituted  one  class ;  Judy,  the  free 
negress,  a  second :  and  Crissy,  the  slave,  a  third.     So 


260  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

many  incongruous  elements  could  not  fail  at  times  to 
produce  a  discord,  particularly  as  the  first  class  were 
constantly  changing  their  forms, — the  black-haired  cook 
of  one  day  being  a  red-haired  one  the  next.  That  is, 
there  was  a  constant  ebbing  and  flowing  in  the  white 
population.  For  the  slightest  cause  of  dissatisfaction 
they  would  relinquish  their  office,  leaving  the  vacancy 
to  be  supplied  by  other  servants  till  another  supplied 
the  place.  As  it  was  a  large  establishment,  they  were 
frequently  obliged  to  employ  raw,  unpractised  hands, 
whose  ignorance  was  the  cause  of  blunders  equally  pro- 
voking and  amusing. 

One  day  one  of  the  raw  material  was  cooking  her 
first  dinner.  She  had  recommended  herself  as  a  "  supa- 
rior  cook,"  who  understood  all  the  mysteries  of  the  culi- 
nary department,  but  Crissy  watched  her  movements 
with  contemptuous  wonder. 

"Why  don't  you  pluck  out  them  are  pin  feathers?" 
cried  Crissy,  "and  you  ain't  going  to  put  'em  in  the 
oven  with  their  legs  sprawling  and  kicking  every  which 
way !" 

"I'm  going  to  do  just  as  I  plase,  you  impertinent 
cratur,"  answered  indignant  Erin.  "I  should  like  you 
to  show  me  a  pin  in  the  feathers.  And  don't  the  legs 
look  gracefuller  loose,  than  tethered  like  a  slave,  as  you 
ba  yourself?" 

With  that,  she  gave  the  oven  a  tremendous  ding, 
right  in  the  midst  of  a  blazing  fire,  hot  as  that  in  which 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  2G1 

Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  were  cast,  where  the 
devoted  twins  scorched  and  blackened  and  shrivelled, 
till  they  appeared  the  most  wretched,  spindle-shanked 
pair  that  ever  were  seen  side  by  side. 

"Why  don't  you  drudge  and  baste  them  chickens?" 
exclaimed  Crissy,  quite  scandalized  at  her  ignorance  and 
self-conceit.  "Who  ever  seen  potry  clone  dry  afore,  and 
burnt  all  to  cinders  besides  ?" 

"  Do  you  call  me  a  drudge  and  a  baste,  you  mane, 
black,  woolly-headed  thing?"  cried  cook,  her  face  in  as 
great  a  blaze  as  the  fire;  "say  it  again,  and  I'll  bate 
you  across  the  back  with  this  poker.  What  are  you  but 
a  slave,  I  want  to  know  ?  Can't  you  demane  yourself 
better  to  your  supariors  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  as  I'm  more  a  slave  than  the  rest  on 
ye,"  said  Crissy,  shrugging  her  shoulders  till  they 
touched  the  tip  of  her  ears.  "You  all  have  to  work  a 
heap  harder  than  I  do,  and  don't  get  much  thanks, 
nuther." 

"But  we  get  wages  for  our  work,  and  I'd  like  you  to 
show  me  the  blessed  copper  you  ever  got  for  yourn." 

"I  wouldn't  touch  a  copper,  leave  'em  to  poor  folks," 
said  Crissy.  "  I  got  a  heap  of  money  at  home — all  in 
silver, — more  than  you'll  ever  lay  by,  I  'spect.  We 
don't  have  no  coppers  where  we  come  from.  We  'spises 
em. 

"A  hape  of  silver!     Och !  I'd  like  to  spake  to  it, 


262  ^the  planter's  northern  bride. 

and  ask  who  it  belonged  to.  And  you've  got  any  num- 
ber of  silks  and  satins,  hav'n't  you?" 

"I've  got  more  fine  dresses  than  you  know  how  to 
count — or  any  other  buckra.  I  don't  wear  'em  tho', 
'cept  'mong  quality  folks." 

"  Oh  !  you  spake  up  for  the  quality,  do  you  ?  "Won't 
the  craturs  lie  still  ?" 

She  was  trying  to  compose  the  burnt  and  sprawling 
limbs  of  the  chicken  on  an  elliptical  dish,  but  their  feet 
would  kick  up  in  the  air,  in  the  second  and  fifth  position. 

"  I  never  saw  such  an  unaven  dish,"  she  muttered. 
"I  like  to  have  the  convaniences  where  I  cook.  What 
you  got  in  this  stewpan  ?" 

"It's  Mars.  Richard's  broth.  He  won't  taste  of  a 
drop  but  what  I  makes  for  him." 

"  Mars.  Richard  !  Och  !  before  I'd  call  a  man  or  wo- 
man my  master,  I'd  ate  my  tongue  betwane  my  teeth." 

Just  then  an  exclamation  of  horror  was  heard  behind 
them,  so  sudden  and  piercing  that  Erin  jumped  at  least 
two  feet  in  the  air,  in  her  consternation  and  affright. 
The  mistress  of  the  hotel,  finding  the  dinner  hour  ar- 
rived, without  the  warning  bell,  had  entered  the  premi- 
ses, and,  beholding  the  specimens  of  cookery  surrounding 
the  fire,  a  shriek  of  astonishment  burst  forth  from  her 
lips. 

"Is  tnat  your  cooking?"  she  cried,  pointing  to  the 
fire. 

"  To  be  shure  it's  mine." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         263 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  understood  all  kinds  of 
cooking,  that  you  were  an  experienced,  first-rate  hand?" 

"Well,  indade,  ain't  I  exparienced,  I  should  like  to 
know?"  said  Erin,  flaring  up  like  a  candle  in  the  wind. 
'  May  I  be  spacheless  if  I  didn't  cook  for  Miss  Wallis  a 
vrake  and  sixteen  days  over.  And  didn't  she  tell  me  to 
roast  the  bafe  brown  and  crisp?"  pointing  to  a  stately 
sirloin,  covered  with  a  dry,  black  crust,  that  looked  more 
like  a  chunk  of  charcoal  wood  than  meat. 

"And  here's  my  dinner  spoiled — not  one  thing  fit  to 
eat,  and  the  boarders  pouring  in  as  fast  as  they  can  ! 
It  is  enough  to  provoke  a  saint.  If  there  was  such  a 
thing  as  keeping  a  steady  cook — but  as  soon  as  one  has 
a  good  one,  they  take  a  miff  at  nothing  at  all,  and  off 
they  go.  I  have  had  three  different  cooks  in  the  last 
three  weeks,  and  I  shall  have  another  to-morrow  !  Take 
your  things  and  march,  miss ;  and  never  let  me  see  your 
face  again  in  this  part  of  the  world.  Cook,  indeed ! 
Why  I  should  think  you  had  just  taken  a  shovel  of  coals 
and  dashed  over  the  dishes." 

The  lady  was  not  a  scolding  lady,  but  certainly  her 
patience  was  put  to  a  severe  test.  Erin  was  not  the  only 
one  who  had  spoiled  a  dinner,  and  made  the  most  awful 
and  ridiculous  mistakes.  An  incident  which  had  occurred 
a  few  weeks  before,  rose  fresh  in  her  memory. 

A  girl,  whom  she  had  hired  to  wait  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  who  professed  to  be  au  fait  in  her  line,  waa 
told  to  put  seasoning  in  the  castors. 


204  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"What  sasoning,  if  you  plaso,  ma'am?" 

"  Why,  pepper,  and  vinegar,  and  mustard,  and  catsup, 
to  be  sure." 

The  girl  did  not  know  what  castors  were,  but,  ashamed 
F*jf  her  ignorance,  she  would  not  acknowledge  it.  But 
tearing  some  one  tell  the  servant,  who  was  rolling  a 
table  back  against  the  wall,  not  to  let  the  castors  catch 
in  the  carpet,  indicating  the  little  brass  wheels  with  his 
index,  she  exulted  in  having  acquired  the  desired  infor- 
mation without  exposing  herself  to  ridicule,  though  what 
good  in  the  world  sasoning  would  do  to  them,  she  could 
not  tell.  Nevertheless,  faithful  to  her  instructions,  she 
got  down  on  her  knees  under  the  table,  and  plastered 
them  with  mustard,  sprinkled  them  with  pepper,  and 
bathed  them  with  vinegar.  Not  knowing  what  was 
meant  by  catsup,  she  ventured  to  omit  that  ingredient, 
much  to  the  benefit  of  the  carpet,  already  saturated  with 
vinegar.  These  occasional  misfortunes  were  caused  by 
the  necessity  of  employing  emigrants,  fresh  from, some 
mud-walled  cabin  or  chimneyless  roof.  They  may  serve 
as  sources  of  amusement  in  the  retrospect,  but  in  the 
moment  of  endurance  require  a  Spartan  spirit  to  bear. 

"  I  wonder  what  that  is,  if  it  ain't  having  a  missus," 
thought  Crissy,  as  Erin,  gathering  up  bundle,  bonnet,  and 
shawl,  marched  towards  the  door  with  the  air  of  one.  who 
owned  the  whole  establishment.  "  She  needn't  brag  over 
me,  the  Lord  knows." 

"You'd  better  take  her  for  a  cook,"  exclaimed  Erin, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         265 

in  a  scornful  tone,  as  she  closed  the  door.  "  Interfacing 
with  me  all  the  time,  and  nothing  but  a  born  slave." 

"Do  you  know  how  to  cook,  girl?"  asked  the  lady, 
when  the  wrathful  figure  of  the  Irish  woman  disap- 
peared. 

"  I  b'lieve  I  does,  missus ;  tho'  it  ain't  my  rig'lar 
business." 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  hire  you  and  try  you  for  a 
while." 

"  La,  missus  !  I  couldn't  hire  my  time  to  nobody.  I 
belongs  to  Miss  Ilda,  and  couldn't  leave  her  no  way." 

"  That's  all  nonsense,"  replied  the  lady.  "You  are 
as  free  as  she  is,  if  you  only  knew  it.  She  has  no  more 
right  to  your  services  than  I  have,  and  you  are  a  fool  to 
work  for  nothing,  when  you  might  be  getting  good 
wages.  I  would  not  stay  with  her  another  day  if  I  was 
in  your  place." 

"When  Mars.  Richard  so  sick  and  she  feel  so  bad, 
way  off  from  all  her  kinfolk !  Oh !  missus,  I  couldn't 
do  that.  Somethin'  here  keep  me  from  it.  She  bin 
mighty  good  to  me,  and  it  would  be  ugly  to  turn  my 
back  on  her,  when  she  in  trouble.  'Sides,  I  don't  see 
freedom  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be.  It  does  mighty 
well  for  rich  folks  :  but  poor,  working  folks  can't  be  free 
any  way.  Long  as  I  got  to  work  I'll  work  for  my  own 
master  and  missus,  'cause  they  cares  for  me." 

"  Poor,  foolish,  ignorant  creature  !"  said  the  lady,  in 
a  tone  of  mingled  compassion  and  contempt.     "  Look 


26G  the  planter's  northern  bride 

at  Judy  here — how  much  better  off  she  is.  She  has  all 
she  earns,  and  does  what  she  pleases  with  it." 

"I'd  a  heap  ruther  be  in  my  place  than  Judy's,"  said 
Crissy,  locking  down  at  her  own  neat,  genteel  apparel, 
and  then  casting  a  furtive  glance  at  Judy's  coarse  and 
slovenly  dress.  "If  I  don't  get  reg'lar  wages,  I  gets 
everything  I  needs  without  the  'sponsibility.  I'm  will- 
ing to  help  you  when  I've  time,  missus,  for  nothing,  but 
don't  say  nothing  more  'bout  my  leaving  Miss  Ilda,  for 
I  ain't  a  going  do  it." 

That  night  after  supper,  when  the  servants  had  a 
respite  from  their  labours,  Judy  was  sitting  on  the 
threshold  of  the  back  kitchen  door,  her  elbows  resting 
on  her  knees,  and  her  head  resting  on  her  hands. 

"Let  me  go  by,"  said  Crissy.  "You  needn't  get  up, 
only  don't  spread  yourself  out  like  a  fodder  stack." 

"You  jist  sit  down,  one  minnit,  Crissy,  and  let  me 
say  someting  ben  on  my  mind  dis  long  time.  'Spose 
you  ask  your  massa  to  buy  me  ?"  She  uttered  this  in  a 
low  voice  in  Crissy's  ear,  who  had  seated  herself  at  her 
request,  pressing  her  clothes  close  to  herself,  to  avoid 
the  contact  of  Judy's  soiled  garments. 

"You!"  cried  Crissy  in  astonishment;  "I  thought 
you  free !" 

"  So  I  be — dat  is,  dey  call  me  so  ;  but  dat  don't  make 
me  so.  I  run  way  from  old  massa,  'cause  he  treat  me 
bad.  He  live  way  over  de  river,  in  old  Kentuck.  I 
thought  if  I  got  among  free  folks  I'd  be  de  fine  lady, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         267 

equal  to  de  white  folks ;  but  I'm  noting  but  a  nigger, 
arter  all — noting  but  poor  Judy.  That  ain't  my  name 
tho'.  They  call  me  Judy  for  short,  but  the  Lord  named 
me  Julia.  What  o'  dat  ? — no  matter.  You  got  good 
riassa  and  missus — wish  Thad — den  I'd  have  somebody 
to  take  care  of  me.  Don't  know  how  to  take  care  of 
myself — folks  'pose  on  me.  White  folks  call  us  niggers 
brudders  and  sisters  way  off;  but  when  dey  close  to  us 
dey  find  out  we  noting  but  niggers.  Please  ask  your 
massa  to  buy  me,  and  say  noting  'bout  it." 

"  He's  no  use  for  you ;  he's  got  plenty  now,"  said 
Crissy;  "and  Mars.  Russell  don't  approve  of  buy- 
ing or  selling.  He  jist  keeps  what  he's  born  to,  and 
won't  have  nothing  to  do  with  speculators.  You'd 
better  staid  at  home,  and  not  run  away.  Tne  last 
words  Jim  ses  to  me,  'Crissy,'  ses  he,  'don't  you  run 
off.     You'll  'pent  of  it,  long  as  you  live.'  " 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Crissy,  when  de  nigger  have  good 
massa  and  good  missis,  dey  well  off.  When  dey  have 
bad  massa  and  missis,  cley  bad  off.  Talk  'bout  us  being 
on  a 'quality  with  white  folks,  no  such  ting.  De  Lord 
never  made  us  look  like  dem.  We  mustn't  be  angry 
wid  de  Lord,  for  all  dat ;  lie  knows  best,  I  'spose. 
Look  a'  me,  black  as  de  chimney  back, — dey,  white  as 
snow ;  what  great,  big,  thick,  ugly  lips  I  got, — dere's 
look  jist  like  roses.  Den  dis  black  sheep  head,  what 
de  Lord  make  dat  for  ?  Dey  got  putey,  soft,  long  hair, 
jist  like  de  silk  ribbons.     Now  look  at  dat  big,  long 


2GS  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

heel,  will  you?"  added  Judy,  putting  out  her  bare  foot 
m  the  moonshine,  giggling  and  shaking  ;  "  who  ever  saw 
de  white  lady  with  sich  a  heel  as  clat  ?  I  do  wonder 
what  the  Lord  made  us  nigger  for  ?  I  'spect  de  white 
dust  gin  out,  and  he  had  to  take  de  black."* 

"I  wouldn't  talk  'bout  myself  in  that  way,"  said 
Crissy,  whose  personal  pride  was  quite  wounded  by  the 
association ;  "  all  the  coloured  people  ain't  black.  I 
ain't  black  myself." 

"  I'd  heap  sooner  see  'em  black,  dan  gray  or  yellow. 
It's  more  'spectable.  La  sus  !  how  my  bones  does  ache. 
I've  scrubbed  de  house  from  top  to  de  bottom.  Dat 
my  Saturday  work.  Bless  a  Lord  !  I  rest  some  to-mor- 
r  jw." 

All  that  occurred  in  the  kitchen  department  only 
made  Crissy  more  contented  with  her  own  lot,  and 
rather  confirmed  than  shook  her  fidelity  and  loyalty. 
But  she  was  assailed  by  a  more  dangerous  influence, 
which,  gradually  winding  round  her,  found  where  she 
was  most  vulnerable,  and  fastened  on  the  weak  spot. 

There  was  a  gentleman  and  lady  boarding  at  the 
hotel,  bearing  the  somewhat  peculiar  name  of  Softly. 
Their  appearance  and  manner  corresponded  so  well 
with  their  name,  it  seemed  to  have  been  made  on  pur- 
pose for  them.  Mrs.  Softly  had  the  softest  voice  in  the 
world,    and   the   softest  step.     She   seemed  shod  with 

*  The  very  description  a  negress  gave  of  herself,  in  our  own  family, 
In  comparing  the  negro  race  with  the  white. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         2C9 

velvet,  like  a  cat,  and  stole  along  the  passages,  leaving 
no  echo  of  her  footfalls,  giving  no  warning  of  her  ap- 
proach. She  had  very  light  hair,  and  very  light  eyes, 
almost  "white,  with  no  perceptible  eyebrows  or  eyelashes, 
and  having  altogether  a  most  crude  and  unfinished  look, 
Her  husband  was  the  softened  image  of  herself,  having, 
if  possible,  still  lighter  hair  and  eyes, — and,  if  possible, 
still  more  indefinite  brows.  Like  her,  he  had  a  soft, 
doughy,  sodden  appearance ;  and  they  both  dressed  with 
Quaker-like  precision  and  neatness.  Mrs.  Softly  had 
called  on  Ildegerte,  and  Ildegerte  had  returned  the 
call ;  but  she  did  not  seek  to  conceal  the  feeling  of 
repulsion  she  experienced  in  her  presence.  She  was 
too  impulsive  for  policy,  too  careless  of  the  opinion  of 
others,  to  affect  an  interest  which  she  did  not  feel.  Her 
coldness  and  indifference  probably  gave  offence  to  Mrs. 
Softly,  for  she  discontinued  her  visits,  and  spoke  of  her 
as  very  proud  and  haughty. 

Crissy  had  to  pass  her  room  in  going  up  and  down 
stairs.  The  door  was  often  left  open,  and  Mrs.  Softly 
generally  had  a  soft,  pleasant  word  for  Crissy,  and  some- 
times she  asked  her  to  come  in  and  take  a  seat.  Crissy 
v/as  not  insensible  to  this  kindness  and  attention,  an'1 
thought  her  one  of  the  nicest  and  best  ladies  she  ha  . 
ever  seen.  Mr.  Softly,  too,  always  reflected  his  wife's 
courtesies,  and  talked  to  Crissy  in  a  condescending, 
patronizing  way,,  that  was  quite  irresistible.  By  and 
by,  it  seemed  to  be  a  matter  of  course  to  drop  in  as  she 
152 


270  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

passed,  and  before  she  knew  it  she  had  related  every- 
thing concerning  the  family  of  Moreland,  going  back  to 
the  first  generation.  Sometimes  she  heard  them  talking 
about  her,  for  their  soft  voices  would  glide  into  the  pas- 
age  in  a  marvellous  manner. 

"Poor  thing!"  Mrs.  Softly  would  say,  "how  I  pitji 
her !  How  melancholy  and  subdued  she  looks !  No 
spirit  left  in  her.  How  hollow  her  cheeks  are !  Such 
a  nice,  lady-like  person,'  too  !" 

"Yes,"  responded  Mr.  Softly,  "if  she  were  only  free, 
what  a  respectable  member  of  society  she  would  make ! 
We  must  exert  our  influence  upon  her,  and  not  suffer  hei 
to  remain  in  bondage  and  degradation." 

At  first  Crissy  resisted  with  respectful  firmness  all  the. 
arguments  which  her  new  friends  urged  upon  her  under- 
standing ;  but  there  was  one  temptation  held  out,  which 
became  gradually  stronger  and  stronger.  She  could 
make  a  great  fortune,  all  her  own.  She  could  do  it  in 
a  hundred  ways,  with  her  smartness  and  industry. 
Then  she  could  buy  her  husband  and  children,  and  they 
could  all  live  together  in  a  fine  house,  and  hold  up  their 
heads  as  high  as  anybody.  Moreover,  she  was  living  in 
«in  and  shame  and  misery  and  degradation,  and  when, 
he  means  of  deliverance  were  held  out  to  her  she  would1 
never  be  forgiven  by  the  Almighty  if  she  refused  to! 
accept  them. 

Crissy 's  weak  point  was  a  love  of  money — a  love  of 
gain.     It  was  on  this  the  incision  was   made,  which 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         271 

readied  at  length  to  the  heart's  core.  The  fine  house, 
fine  furniture,  and  fine  ladyism  loomed  up  in  her  imagi- 
nation, like  the  spires  and  domes  of  a  distant  city.  She 
began  to  think  that  if  she  had  been  happy  and  con- 
tented before,  it  was  only  because  she  didn't  know  any 
better.  She  began  to  think  that  she  had  been  abused 
without  knowing  it,  and  that  her  master  and  mistress, 
whom  she  had  been  silly  enough  to  believe  kind  and 
liberal,  were  cruel  and  tyrannical,  and  the  worst  enemies 
she  had  in  the  world. 

"  If  Massa  Richard  wan't  sick,"  she  said,  "  I  wouldn't 
mind  it." 

"  Can't  she  hire  as  many  servants  and  nurses  as  she 
likes  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Softly.  "  Is  not  she  rich  and  inde- 
pendent ?  She  can  fill  your  place  in  a  moment ;  but 
you,  if  you  let  this  opportunity  slip,  will  never  have 
another." 

"Never,"  echoed  Mr.  Softly. 

"  But  where  shall  I  go  ?"  exclaimed  Crissy,  bewildered 
and  agitated,  as  the  crisis  of  her  destiny  approached. 

"  We  will  direct  you.  Leave  everything  to  us.  There 
is  a  nice  place,  where  you  can  conceal  yourself  a  while, 
and  where  you  will  be  treated  like  a  lady,  not  a  slave." 

Thus  beset,  day  after  day,  poor  Crissy  grew  weak  and 
impotent,  till  she  became  a  passive  tool  in  their  soft, 
insinuating  hands.  She  stayed  now  as  little  time  as 
possible  in  the  room  of  her  mistress,  whose  confiding 
trust  in  her  fidelity  and  attachment  was  a  dagger  to  her 


2/2  THE   PLANTERS   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

faithless  and  alienated  heart.  Ildegerte  unconsciously 
favoured  the  designs  of  her  enemies,  by  allowing  her  to 
be  away  from  her  more  than  she  had  been  accustomed 
to  be.  Dr.  Barley,  who  was  a  real  philanthropist,  con- 
versed a  great  deal  on  the  sectional  difficulties  of  the 
country,  and  she  thought  it  best  that  Crissy  should  not 
hear  all  that  was  said.  He  was  pained  and  distressed 
by  the  fierce  and  bitter  feelings,  the  fiery  fanaticism, 
the  frantic  zeal,  which,  reckless  of  all  consequences,  was 
spreading  through  the  land.  His  far-reaching  mind 
beheld  the  inevitable  consequences  of  these,  and  he 
lifted  up  his  voice  in  public  as  well  as  private,  endea- 
vouring to  arrest  the  burning  tide  of  prejudice  and 
intolerance.  His  piercing  intellect,  and  large,  generous 
heart,  took  in  the  whole,  instead  of  a  part  of  the  social 
system,  the  interests  and  rights  of  the  white  race  as 
well  as  the  black.  He  believed  that  both  would  be 
injured  and  destroyed  by  coercive  measures,  unsanc- 
tioned by  law,  and  unauthorized,  above  all  things,  by 
the  great  golden  law  written  on  the  tablet  of  every 
human  heart. 


CHAPTER  XL 

"And  must  he  die?"  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her 
hands  passionately  together,  and  looking  -wildly  upward. 
"  Oh  !  Dr.  Darley,  must  he  die  ?  Is  there,  indeed,  no 
hope?" 

"  Has  no  voice  told  you  this  before  ?"  asked  he,  in 
grave  and  solemn  tenderness.  "  Has  not  its  whisper 
come  to  you  lately  with  every  rising  sun  ?  have  you 
not  heard  it  as  you  watched  its  setting  beam  ?  He 
asked  me  to  tell  you,  but  you  knew  it  all  before." 

"  I  feared,  doctor,  but  still  I  hoped.  Take  not  hope 
away  from  me,  or  my  heart  will  break.  Why  did  he 
bring  me  here,  if  you  cannot  save  him  ?  Why  have 
you  stopped  the  remedies  from  which  we  hoped  so 
much  ?" 

She  spoke  wildly,  and  knew  not  that  her  language 
was  upbraiding. 

"  Because  all  medicines  are  unavailing,"  he  replied, 
with  gentleness  ;  "  we  can  only  smooth  his  passage  to 
the  grave.  The  arm  of  an  archangel  could  not  snatch 
him  from  it  now,  how  much  less  my  bounded  skill,  or 

(273) 


274  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

your  human  love !  My  clear  Mrs.  Laurens,"  added  he, 
unclasping  her  clenched  hands,  and  pressing  them  kindly 
in  his  own,  "  by  the  great  love  you  bear  him, — by  your 
belief  in  the  sovereignty  of  God, — and  by  your  faith  in 
a  crucified  Redeemer,  I  entreat  you  to  submit,  with 
meekness  and  resignation,  to  a  doom  common  to  all  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  Adam.  Wrestle  not,  in  impa- 
tient despair,  with  the  mighty  hand  of  God !  I  pity 
you,  from  my  soul,  I  pity  you ;  but  what  can  I  do  for 
him  or  you  that  has  not  been  done  already?" 

"You  have  been  kind,  more  than  kind — heaven  bless 
you  for  all  your  goodness  !  but  oh,  doctor,  it  is  so  hard 
— you  do  not  know  what  it  is  !" 

"I  know  what  it  is  to  see  the  flower  of  one's  life  lan- 
guish and  fade  away,  leaving  nothing  but  a  waste  and 
howling  wilderness.  I  know  what  it  is  to  watch  the 
glimmering  spark  one  would  gladly  feed  with  their  own 
vitality,  go  out,  leaving  nothing  but  the  blackness  of 
darkness.  I  have  travelled  the  same  thorny  path  you 
are  now  treading,  with  bleeding  feet  and  sinking  frame. 
I  know  what  it  is.  I  found  no  hope,  no  comfort,  no 
support,  but  in  God.  Neither  will  you.  There  is  but 
one  refuge  from  the  life-storms  which,  sooner  or  later, 
sweep  over  every  human  heart,  and  that  is,  the  cleft 
Rock  of  Ages." 

The  wild  despair  of  Ildegerte's  countenance  yielded 
to  a  softer  expression,  as  the  Christian  physician  thus 
solemnly  and   affectionately  addressed  her.      Bending 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIBE.         275 

her  head  till  the  loosened  darkness  of  her  hair  wove 
itself  into  a  veil  for  her  sorrow  and  her  tears,  she  wept 
and  sobbed  like  a  gentle,  heart-broken  child.  The  doc- 
tor did  not  attempt  to  check  these  gushing  tears ;  he 
knew  they  would  have  a  relieving  influence.  He  wa3 
going  away  from  the  city,  to  be  absent  days,  perhaps 
weeks,  on  professional  business  that  could  not  be  de- 
ferred. He  regretted  this  circumstance,  for  though  his 
skill  in  this  instance  was  impotent  to  save,  his  sympathy 
and  friendship  were  powerful  to  sustain. 

"You  are  going  to  leave  us,  doctor,"  she  said,  as, 
with  slow  steps,  they  turned  towards  the  chamber  of  the 
invalid,  "  and  we  have  no  friend  but  you." 

"You  are  wrong  there.  You  are  surrounded  by 
friends  whose  kind  offices  would  be  proffered  the  mo- 
ment you  required  them.  Then  your  black  woman  is 
the  best  nurse  in  the  world.    You  must  not  forget  her." 

"  Poor  Crissy  !  yes,  I  am  ungrateful.  She  is  a  faith- 
ful friend,  who  never  will  forsake  me.  What  could  I 
do  without  her  ?     But,  oh  !     Richard — " 

Another  burst  of  grief;  another  struggle  for  com- 
posure ;  a  mighty  effort  to  keep  back  the  welling  waters, 
and  to  roll  the  stone  against  the  door  of  the  fountain. 
Poor  Ildegerte  !  she  thought  her  cup  of  bitterness  was 
brimming ;  but  there  was  another  drop  of  gall  to  bo 
infused  into  it,  of  which  she  little  dreamed. 

That  night,  after  the  doctor  had  bidden  them  farewell, 
with  a  cheerful  voice,  but  moistened  and  averted  eye, 


276  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

promising  to  return  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 
Ildegerte  sat  in  silence  by  her  husband's  couch,  on 
which  the  pale  and  solemn  moonlight  fell  m  silvery 
glory.  There  was  no  other  light  in  the  room,  the  lamp 
having  been  removed  to  the  passsage  ;  and  it  seemed  as 
if  every  lunar  beam  clustered  round  that  pale  and  fading 
form,  leaving  the  remainder  of  the  apartment  in  deep 
shadow.  As  the  light  of  life  grew  dim  in  Richard's 
eye,  he  loved  more  and  more  the  benignant  and  holy 
lustre  of  the  moon.  He  would  have  his  couch  wheeled 
to  the  window,  through  which  it  looked  in  all  its  calm 
and  heavenly  beauty,  and  there  he  would  lie  in  silence, 
gazing  upward  into  the  deep,  deep  dome,  where  that 
glorious  chandelier  was  hung.  His  lungs  were  so  weak,, 
his  breath  came  so  quick  and  short,  and  then  that  terri- 
ble racking  cough,  ready  to  seize  him  on  the  slightest 
exertion,  that  he  seldom  talked  now.  He  was  gentle, 
quiet,  patient,  and  childlike,  repaying  every  tender  care 
with  a  glance  of  unutterable  gratitude  and  love.  "  Dear, 
dear  Ildegerte  !"  he  would  say, — then  followed  the  up- 
ward, prayful  look,  and  she  knew  he  was  commending 
her  to  the  mercy  of  Him  in  whose  presence  he  was 
shortly  to  be. 

The  deep  silence  of  the  hour  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  Crissy,  who  came  in  softly  and  stood  beside 
her  mistress.  She  stood  silentlv  gazing  on  her  master's 
pallid  and  illuminated  face, — on  the  burning  flame-spot 
on  either  cheek, — on  the  paly  gold  locks  that  fell  life- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         277 

lesslj  on  the  pillow, — till  something  rose  swelling  and 
choking  in  her  throat,  and  she  turned  to  her  mistress  as 
if  to  avoid  a  sight  too  harrowing.  But  Ildegerte's  dark, 
melancholy  eyes  met  hers  with  such  a  wistful,  desolate 
expression, — her  face  looked  so  pale  and  sorrowful,  with 
her  Mack  hair  all  loose  and  dishevelled,  making  such  a 
thick,  mournful  drapery, — she  could  not  bear  to  see  it. 
The  choking  in  her  throat  grew  worse. 

"Is  Mars.  Richard  worse  to-night?"  she  at  length 
asked. 

Ildegerte  shook  her  head,  she  could  not  speak. 
Richard  did  seem  better,  more  quiet  and  composed 
than  he  had  for  many  nights. 

"  I'll  go  out  a  little  while,  if  missus  don't  want  me 
just  now,"  said  the  negro,  trying  to  clear  her  swelling 
throat. 

Ildegerte  merely  bowed  her  head  in  token  of  assent, 
then  making  a  painful  effort,  for  a  dull  lethargy  was 
succeeding  her  late  stormy  emotions,  she  said, — 

"  Don't  stay  long,  Crissy.  What  makes  you  look  at 
me  so  hard,  Crissy  ? — how  strange  you  look  !  What  is 
the  matter  ?" 

"  Nothing,  missus ;  I  was  just  thinking  of  you  and 
Mars.  Richard." 

Richard  held  out  his  feeble  hand,  as  Crissy  turned  to 
the  door,  and  taking  her  dusky  palm  in  his,  said,  in  a 
low,  husky  voice, 


278  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"  God  bless  you,  Crissy !  be  faithful  to  her  when  I 
am  gone." 

"  God  bless  you,  Mars.  Richard  ! — oh  !  master,  God 
bless  you  and  missus  too  !"  cried  Crissy,  bursting  into  a 
passion  of  tears,  and  sinking  on  her  knees  by  the  couch. 
"  Oh  !  master,  I  poor,  sinful  creatur ;  pray  forgive  poor 
Crissy  !" 

"  Don't,  Crissy,  don't !"  said  Ildegerte,  trying  to 
raise  her  from  the  ground,  where  she  lay  actually 
•writhing.  "  You  hurt  him ;  you'll  make  him  cough. 
Pray  go,  quick !" 

Crissy  partly  raised  herself,  but  not  before  she  had 
kissed  again  and  again  the  hem  of  Ildegerte's  dress, 
and  then  she  kissed  the  white  hand  extended  to  lift  her, 
and  wet  it  with  her  tears. 

"  Oh !  Miss  Ilda,  God  bless  you  and  make  master 
well!  I  feel  like  I  could  die  for  you  and  Mars. 
Richard." 

Overcome  by  her  own  feelings  and  Crissy's  impas- 
sioned sympathy,  the  more  affecting  for  being  in  con- 
trast with  her  usual  calmness,  Ildegerte  threw  her  arms 
round  her  dark  neck,  and  weeping  on  her  bosom,  ex- 
claimed,— 

"Oh,  Crissy!  Crissy!  I  shall  soon  have  no  friend 
left  but  you.  You  will  never  forsake  me, — no,  no  !"  she 
repeated,  "you  will  never  forsake  me!" 

"I   can't    stand   that,   missis! — oh,   Lord!    I   can't 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         279 

breathe  !  I  'most  dead  !  I  wish  I  was  dead, — I  wish  I 
dead  this  minnit !" 

"Go,  Crissy!"  said  a  faint  voice  from  the  couch. 
"I  would  sleep,  if  it  were  quiet." 

Crissy  gave  a  quick,  spasmodic  spring,  and  vanished 
Tossing  her  hands  above  her  head,  and  flying  through 
the  long  passage,  she  rushed  into  Mrs.  Softly's  room, 
more  like  a  maniac  than  a  sane  person. 

"  I  can't  go  to-night.  I  can't  never  go.  I  can't 
leave  Miss  Ilda.  I  can't  leave  master,  I  love  'em  too 
much.     I'll  die  fust.     Wish  I  could  die  this  minnit." 

Mrs.  Softly  looked  at  Mr.  Softly  and  Mr.  Softly 
looked  at  Mrs.  Softly  as  if  they  were  in  extremity, 
straining  their  white  invisible  eyebrows  as  they  looked. 

This  was  the  night  selected  for  Crissy's  exodus.  They 
had  arranged  everything  themselves,  very  nicely  and 
carefully.  She  was  not  to  have  any  trouble  in  the 
world.  Mr.  Softly  was  to  take  her  to  a  particular  friend 
of  his,  whose  house,  situated  about  ten  miles  below  the 
city,  near  the  banks  of  the  river,  was  a  kind  of  negro 
caravansary.  He  was  to  take  her  in  a  boat,  and  they 
were  to  have  a  charming  sail  in  the  depths  of  the  moon- 
light night.  She  was  to  remain  there  awhile,  till  the 
excitement  of  her  flight  was  over,  and  then  return  to 
the  city  and  commence  making  the  fortune  that  was  to 
elevate  her  so  high  in  the  scale  of  being.  And  after  all 
these  preparations,  so  benevolent  and  disinterested  on 
the  part  of  her  new  friends,  the  weak,  foolish,  ungrateful 


280  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

creature  comes  weeping  and  wringing  her  hands,  de- 
claring she  will  die  rather  than  leave  her  master  and 
mistress  ! 

It  is  no  wonder  that  they  were  astonished  and  indig- 
.  :nant,  that  they  upbraided  her  for  her  perfidy  and  ingra- 
titude, that  they  placed  before  her  in  the  strongest 
colours,  the  enormity  of  her  offences,  and  the  conse- 
quences of  her  transgressions.  It  is  no  wonder  that  the 
poor  bewildered  creature  again  yielded  herself  to  theii 
influence,  and  promised  to  be  guided  passively  by  their 
will. 

Why  did  this  man  and  woman,  who  had  enrolled  them- 
selves under  the  banner  whose  angel-inscribed  motto  is 
"peace  and  good  will  to  all  men,"  thus  labour  and  tra- 
vail to  rend  asunder  the  bonds  of  affection  and  gratitude 
which  united  this  faithful  heart  to  the  master  and  mis- 
tress she  so  fondly  loved?  They  saw  her  contented, 
perfectly  unconscious  that  servitude  was  a  burden,  with- 
out one  wish  to  exchange  situations  with  the  hirelings, 
who  had  the  liberty  of  going  from  place  to  place  and 
serving  many  masters  instead  of  one.  "Why  were  they 
not  willing  to  leave  her  so  ?  What  had  that  sad  young 
wife  done  to  them,  that  they  thus  toiled  to  deprive  her 
of  her  chief  comfort  and  stay  in  the  night-time  of  her 
sorrow  and  despair  ?  Had  they  no  compassion  for  that 
pale,  patient,  gentle,  dying  stranger,  that  they  thus 
stole  from  him  his  attendant  and  nurse,  at  the  very  mo- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        281 

tnent  when  the  death-dew  is  falling  beneath  the  silver 
moon? 

What  motive,  we  ask,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  kind, 
and  Christian,  and  holy,  could  have  actuated  them  in^? 
the  present  instance?  What,  but  the  carrying  out  of^ 
a  fixed,  inflexible  purpose,  at  any  cost,  at  any  sacrifice ; 
the  triumph  of  an  indomitable  will ;  the  gratification  of 
prejudice  and  intolerance  ?  No  matter  what  flowers  are 
in  the  pathway,  trample  them  down,  though  they  be 
sweet  as  the  blossoms  of  Paradise.  You  have  marked 
out  your  course,  and  must  not  turn  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left.  No  matter  if  hearts  lie  palpitating  and  bleeding 
below,  let  the  chariot  wheels  roll  on,  crushing  and 
mangling  them.  You  have  mounted  your  car — you 
have  sworn  to  rush  on,  with  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  a 
torch  in  the  other ;  and,  though  blood  and  flame  may 
gurgle  and  crackle  around  you,  your  purpose  must  be 
accomplished,  your  mission  fulfilled. 

That  night  the  midnight  moon  looked  down  on  the 
bosom  of  the  Ohio,  as  a  small  batteau  glided  swiftly 
over  its  glittering  surface.  A  stout  black  man  sat  at 
one  end,  propelling  it  over  the  water;  a  white  man 
occupied  the  centre,  folded  carefully  in  a  cloak,  for  the 
river-damp  might  be  dangerous  at  such  ah  hour ;  while 
a  negro  woman  crouched  at  the  other  end,  with  her  head 
bowed  on  her  knees,  and  dull  and  heavy  in  her  ears  was 
the  sound  of  the  dipping  oar.  She  had  no  outei  cover- 
ing to  shield  her  from  the  night-damps, — her  guardian 


282  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

and  protector  had  not  thought  of  that ;  why  should  he  ? 
and,  in  her  trepidation,  remorse,  and  anguish,  she  had 
forgotten  to  "wrap  her  shawl  round  her.  After  a  while, 
she  lifted  her  head  and  looked  about  her,  with  a  wild, 
frightened  countenance.  She  looked  at  the  banks,  with 
their  dark  fringe-work  of  swaying  boughs,  and  shud- 
dered,— it  seemed  so  like  the  sweeping  of  Ildegerte's 
long  black  hair.  She  looked  down  into  the  river, — the 
deep,  rippling,  shining  river, — and  looking  right  up  to 
her,  through  the  quivering  brightness ;  she  could  see 
her  master's  large,  languishing  blue  eyes,  and  his  long 
fair  hair  curling  in  the  water.  She  looked  up,  and  right 
over  her  head,  distinctly  seen  in  the  dark-blue  of  the  sky, 
she  could  still  see  those  languishing  eyes  fixed  mourn- 
fully and  reproachfully  on  her. 

She  heard  voices,  too,  calling  to  her  from  the  dark 
places  on  shore.  Sometimes  it  was  the  voice  of  Jim, 
saying,  "  Crissy,  Crissy,  I  told  you  neber  to  run  away. 
You'll  neber  see  poor  Jim  no  more  !"  Sometimes  they 
were  the  voices  of  little  children,  crying,  "  Mammy, 
mammy,  ain't  you  neber  coming  agin  ?"  She  could  see 
their  little  black  faces  and  woolly  heads  peeping  at  her 
through  the  thick,  rustling  foliage.  Sometimes  she  saw 
something  long  and  whitish  in  the  distance, — it  was  the 
large  wooden  chest,  the  ark  of  her  wealth,  the  garner 
of  her  gifts  and  treasures ;  and  then,  all  at  once, 
they  all  vanished,  and  she  could  see  nothing  but  th. 
figure  seated  directly  in  front, — stiff  and  perpeodiculai 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         282 

with  its  cold,  doughy,  indefinite  face,  and  lank  white 
hair.  Splash  went  the  oar  ! — on  went  the  boat ! — more 
and  more  chill  blew  the  river  breeze !  Where  were 
they  bearing  her  to  ?  She  did  not  know.  What  was 
she  going  to  do?  She  did  not  know.  She  only  knew 
that  she  had  left  all  she  loved  behind,  and  that  a  cold, 
dark,  uncertain  future  was  before  her. 

The  midnight  moon  looked  down  on  another  scene. 
Ah,  midnight  is  a  solemn  and  mysterious  hour  !  It  was 
at  midnight  that  the  destroying  angel  flapped  its  raven 
wings  over  the  Assyrian  camp,  and  the  dead  lay  in 
thousands  beneath  its  folds.  It  was  at  midnight  that 
the  same  commissioned  angel  passed  over  the  thresholds 
of  Egypt,  and  slew  the  first-born  of  Pharaoh  that  sat 
upon  the  throne,  and  the  first-born  of  the  maid-servant 
that  was  behind  the  mill.  It  is  the  hour  when  the  cry  of 
new-born  life  is  oftenest  heard  in  the  household, — when 
the  wail  over  the  dying  is  borne  on  the  still  and  dewy  air. 

Ildegerte  sat  by  the  couch  of  her  husband,  who,  soon 
after  the  departure  of  Crissy,  had  fallen  into  a  deep  and 
tranquil  sleep.  She  watched  for  a  while  his  unusually 
gentle  breathing,  then,  exhausted  by  weeping,  her  own 
eyes  closed,  and  she  too  slept,  with  her  head  reclining 
on  the  arm  of  her  chair  and  one  hand  clasping  Rich- 
ard's. She  had  seen  nothing  in  the  unwonted  agitation 
of  Crissy  but  deep  sympathy  and  affection,  and  the  last 
feeling  of  which  she  was  conscious  before  falling  asleep 
was  gratitude  for  the  possession  of  this  humble  and 


284  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

faithful  friend.  She  was  awakened,  she  scarcely  knew 
how,  but  starting  from  her  chair  she  uttered  a  piercing 
shriek.  Richard's  head  was  slightly  raised  on  his  left 
hand.  There  was  a  gurgling  sound  in  his  throat,  and  a 
red  stream  flowing  from  his  mouth  on  the  pillow,  the 
sheet,  and  her  own  white  dress.  The  moon  was  still 
shining,  though  it  was  higher  in  the  heavens  and  did  not 
gleam  directly  on  the  couch.  She  could  see  it  all 
though — the  drooping  head,  the  flowing  blood,  the  white, 
white  face,  where  the  hectic  fine  was  all  extinguished ; 
and  in  agony  and  terror  that  baffles  description  she 
looked  wildly  round  for  Crissy — for  Crissy  at  that  mo- 
ment gliding  away  on  the  shining  river.  She  flew  to 
the  door  and  shrieked  her  name ; — no  answer.  Her 
own  voice  echoed  mournfully  in  the  winding  passage. 

"  Oh  !  Richard  !"  she  cried,  coming  back  and  throw- 
ing herself  on  her  knees  by  his  side,  "  speak  to  me,  look 
at  me,  tell  me  that  you  will  not  die  and  leave  me  here 
alone !" 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  gave  her  such  a  hole — but  he 
spoke  not,  and  the  red  stream  still  kept  flowing  on,  till 
the  folds  of  her  dress  were  all  dabbled  and  stained. 

"  Oh  !  God  !"  she  cried,  "  he  is  dying,  and  I  am  alone ! 
What  shall  I  do !  Oh !  brother,  brother,  would  to  God 
you  were  near  !  I  must  find  somebody  !  He  must  not 
perish  so  !" 

The  wire  which  communicated  with  the  bell  in  her 
room  was  broken,  so  that  she  could  not  ring  it.     The 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  28 5 

only  way  was  to  go  for  help  herself,  and  leave  him 
bleeding,  dying  there.  Rushing  through  the  passage, 
she  knocked  vehemently  at  Mrs.  Softly's  door,  under 
which  a  light  was  glimmering,  and  opened  it  without 
waiting  for  admission.  The  lady  had  not  retired  to  bed, 
having  sacrificed  sleep  on  the  altar  of  benevolence  and 
mercy.  She  was  just  about  to  say  her  prayers,  with  a 
feeling  of  unusual  self-complacency,  when  the  loud 
knocking  came  thunderingly  to  her  door,  it  was  burst 
open,  and  Ildegerte  stood  before  her,  pale  as  a  corpse, 
her  black  hair  sweeping  wildly  back  from  her  brow,  and 
her  white  dress  crimsoned  with  blood. 

"Mercy!  mercy!"  screamed  Mrs.  Softly,  recoiling 
as  from  an  avenging  spirit,  and  spreading  both  hands 
before  her  face. 

"For  God's  sake,  come  and  help  me!"  cried  Ilde- 
gerte, seizing  her  frantically  by  the  arm  and  dragging 
her  towards  the  door.  "  Richard  is  dying — bleeding  to 
death  !  I  can't  find  Crissy  !  Have  you  seen  her  ?  Do 
you  know  where  she  is  ?  I  must  have  her  with  me  !  I 
can't  do  without  her  !  Dr.  Darley  is  gone  !  I  am  all 
alone  !     Oh  !  my  God  !  is  there  nobody  to  help  him  ?" 

Thus  wildly  ejaculating,  she  kept  her  hold  on  the 
frightened,  shrinking  woman,  dragging  her  along  with 
her  into  the  room  where  Richard  lay,  all  ghastly  in  his 
blood. 

Ildegerte  snatched  up  the  lamp  from  the  passage 
floor  and  held  it  over  the  couch.  As  she  held  it,  her 
153 


286  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

trembling  hand  grew  steady,  as  if  clenched  with  iron 
fingers.  She  realized  at  once  that  she  was  in  the  pre- 
sence of  that  mighty  power  whose  coming  she  had  so  long 
dreaded,  and  a  sudden,  instantaneous,  awful  calmness 
ettled  on  the  wild  tossings  of  her  soul.  She  felt  as  one 
might,  who,  borne  on  the  rushing  wings  of  a  whirlwind 
to  the  mountain  top,  looks  down  upon  a  waveless,  bound- 
less sea  of  glass.  Her  spirit  was  preternaturally  illu- 
minated ;  and,  above  the  darkness  and  stillness  and 
fearfulness,  there  appeared  to  her  a  glory  like  the  body 
of  heaven  in  its  clearness. 

"Richard!  Richard!"  she  cried,  stretching  her  arms 
upwards  as  if  he  were  already  ascending.  "  The  Lord 
is  coming.     He  is  coming  to  bear  thee  away." 

The  eyes  which  she  had  thought  for  ever  closed,  opened 
for  one  moment  and  looked  steadfastly  upon  her. 
Through  the  glaze  and  mistiness  of  death,  a  ray  of  hea- 
venly joy  and  love  flashed,  quivered,  and  was  gone. 
Every  nerve  of  Ildegerte's  frame  thrilled,  as  if  un- 
sheathed, beneath  that  last  intense,  burning  ray  of  life. 
Her  own  soul  seemed  leaving  her  body  and  mingling 
with  his. 

"Yes,"  she  said  faintly,  "oh,  yes!"  and  falling  for- 
ward, she  lay  as  cold  and  insensible  as  the  form  her  fail- 
ing arms  vainly  attempted  to  enfold. 

When  consciousness  returned,  the  whole  scene  waa 
changed.  She  was  in  another  room,  lying  on  a  strange 
bed,  and  faces  that  looked  strange  and  dim  were  looking 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        287 

at  her  through  the  curtains.  There  was  a  strong  odour 
of  camphor  and  hartshorn,  and  when  she  put  up  her 
hand  to  shade  back  the  hair  from  her  brow,  she  found 
it  heavy  and  wet. 

"Oh!  it  is  blood!"  she  murmurred.  "I  remember 
it  now." 

Rising  on  her  elbow,  she  sent  her  glance  piercingly 
round  the  room,  in  search  of  an  object  which  she  could 
not  find. 

"What  have  you  done  with  him?"  she  shrieked,  try- 
ing to  spring  from  the  bed.  "I  will  not  be  separated 
from  him !  Take  me  back — Crissy  will  take  me  ! 
Where  is  she?     Why  does  she  stay  away  so  long?" 

Mrs.  Softly,  in  whose  bed  she  was  laid,  shrunk  from 
the  keen  questioning  of  those  wild,  dark  eyes.  More 
than  once  during  the  night  had  her  self-complacency 
been  disturbed ;  and  Ildegerte's  imploring  cry  for  Crissy 
sounded  like  anything  but  music  in  her  ears. 

"What  have  you  done  with  Crissy?"  repeated  Ilde- 
gerte,  with  delirious  earnestness.  "Tell  me,  have  you 
sent  her  away?" 

"Mercy  on  me!"  cried  Mrs.  Softly,  with  a  kind  of 
hysterical  spasm.  "What  have  I  to  do  with  Crissy? 
How  should  I  know  ?    I  am  sure  I  am  not  her  mistress." 

Ildegerte  lay  still  a  moment,  then  suddenly  ex- 
claimed— 

"Where  is  Mr.  Softly?     Is  he  gone  too?" 

This  abrupt  and  startling  question  entirely  destroyed 


288  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  equilibrium  of  Mrs.  Softly.  Blushing  and  stammer- 
ing, her  fringeless  eyes,  incapable  of  hiding  themselves, 
rolled  from  side  to  side  as  if  in  search  of  escape.  Her 
embarrassment  and  evasion,  the  strange  absence  of 
Crissy,  the  absence  of  Mr.  Softly,  also,  a  thousand  little 
circumstances,  unnoticed  before,  but  rising  up  with 
vividness  and  distinctness  now,  all  told  the  story  of 
desertion  and  wrong.  Husband,  servant,  friend — all 
taken,  and  she  left  desolate  and  alone.  Were  God  and 
man  leagued  against  her  ?  Gone  was  the  supernatural 
illumination ;  gone  the  glory-vision  that  gilded  the  solemn 
death-hour.  Gone,  too,  the  crushing  sense  that  followed 
the  brief  apocalypse  of  being  under  the  awful  pressure 
of  God's  almighty  hand.  It  was  man  with  whom  she 
had  now  to  contend — man  in  his  littleness  and  spite, 
and  all  the  scorn  and  indignation  of  her  soul  flashed  up 
and  mingled  with  the  fast-kindling  fires  of  delirium  that 
gleamed  in  her  eyes. 

"You,  you  have  done  me  this  foul  wrong  !"  she  cried  t, 
"  and  may  God  avenge  me  in  his  own  good  time  !  When 
Richard  and  I  stand  with  you  before  the  judgment-seat 
of  Christ,  oh  !  may  He  remember  the  bitter  anguish  of 
this  hour !" 

Another  fainting  fit  followed  this  paroxysm  of  agony, 
and  thus  the  night  waned  away.  The  morning  star — 
one  of  that  glorious  company  that  sang  for  joy  at  the 
birth  of  creation — shone  in  between  the  parted  curtains, 
through  which  the  moonbeams  lately  stole.      But  its 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  289 

voice  of  music  was  now  hushed.  It  looked  in  sadness 
on  a  cold,  still,  shrouded  form,  with  folded  arms  and 
moveless  feet,  and  divinely  placid  brow.  The  lips,  from 
which  the  life-stream  was  so  lately  flowing,  were  com- 
posed with  an  angelic  smile,  and  all  the  charm  and 
tenderness  of  youth,  which  disease  and  suffering  had 
impaired  and  partially  obliterated,  were  restored  to  the 
calm,  reposing  features. 

Shine  on,  thou  beauteous  star !  type  of  the  bright  and 
morning  star,  that  rose  upon  a  sin-darkened  world.  Star 
of  the  manger  ! — star  of  the  cross  !  shine  upon  the  night- 
shades of  sorrow  and  death,  and  usher  in  the  day-spring 
from  on  high  ! 

Ildegerte  lay  for  weeks  on  a  sick-bed.  Though  her 
own  nurse  had  been  decoyed  from  her,  she  did  not  want 
for  kindness  and  sympathy.  Dr.  Darley,  who  had 
returned,  took  her  under  his  parental  care,  and  every 
one  lavished  upon  her  the  tenderest  attention.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Softly  had  left  the  house,  suddenly  discovering  a 
deficiency  in  their  accommodations  which  they  had  not 
noticed  before, — and  every  one  seemed  rejoiced  at  their 
departure. 

As  no  proof  existed,  but  the  coincident  absence  of 
Mr.  Softly,  that  he  or  his  wife  had  any  agency  in  the 
flight  of  Crissy,  nothing  could  be  done  to  convict  them. 
Indeed,  the  circumstance  of  negroes  being  bribed  to 
leave  their  masters,  was  too  common  to  excite  more 
than  a  passing  remark. 


290  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Ildegerte,  on  whose  bruised  and  wounded  heart  the 
gentle  courtesies  of  strangers  fell  softly  and  balmily, 
silent,  patient,  and  mournful,  came  slowly  back  to  life  and 
health.  Dr.  Darley  had  written  to  her  brother  imme- 
diately on  his  return.  He  had  seen  the  body  of  Richard 
deposited  in  the  stranger's  vault,  ready  to  be  removed 
where  it  could  mingle  with  Southern  dust.  He  had 
ministered  to  the  young  and  sorely  stricken  widow,  as 
physician,  friend,  comforter,  and  father. 

She  had  another  devoted  friend,  of  whose  sympathy 
she  for  some  time  took  little  heed ;  but,  as  her  percep- 
tions quickened,  she  was  conscious  that  a  dark  form 
often  lingered  in  her  apartment  at  night,  and  sometimes 
when  she  awakened  it  was  shading  her  pillow.  At  first, 
she  would  start,  and  utter  the  name  of  Crissy,  but  she 
soon  learned  to  distinguish  its  lineaments  from  hers. 
They  were  very  ugly,  but  there  was  a  redeeming  expres- 
sion of  honesty  and  sincerity,  which  prevented  them 
from  being  altogether  repulsive.  It  was  nobody  but 
Judy,  who,  after  having  accomplished  her  daily  work, 
would  put  on  her  cleanest  clothes,  and  steal  up  into  the 
room  where  Crissy's  young  mistress  lay,  and  watch  by 
her,  as  if  she  were  a  little  child. 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Ildegerte,  one  night,  when 
she  was  left  alone  with  Judy ;  and,  forgetting  that  she 
was  in  a  free  state,  she  added,  "  To  whom  do  you  be- 
long?" 

"  I  belongs  to  a  mighty  mean  missus,  just  now,  honey 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         291 

— dat's  my  own  ugly,  black  self.  I'm  tired  of  being  my 
own  missus,  dat  I  am.  Wish  you'd  take  me,  missus — 
won't  ask  you  one  copper — only  let  me  live  wid  you.  I 
tells  Crissy  to  beg  you — tells  her  a  heap  of  times  how 
miserable  I  was — but  she  done  run  off  herself,  like  do 
aggravatinest  fool  that  ever  was  born." 

"Poor  Crissy!"  said  Ildegerte,  gently.  "I  am  not 
aDgry  with  her." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  missus ;  if  you  ain't  an  angel,  there 
ain't  none  in  de  kingdom  come.  Crissy  was  great  big 
fool,  dat  she  was ;  but  dem  white-eyed,  no-account  peo- 
ple— dey  wan't  no  quality  folks,  missus — sorter  be- 
witched her  and  made  her  uneasy  and  uncontented.  She 
neber  run  away  of  her  own  cospiracy.  Hunded  times 
she  say  to  me — '  Judy,'  ses  she,  '  I've  got  the  best  mis- 
sus and  massa  in  de  whole  universe.  Dey  neber  gin  me 
one  single  stripe,  scarce  eber  speak  de  cross  word  or  gin 
de  cross  look.'  '  Crissy,'  ses  I,  '  tank  de  Lord  for  his 
goodness.  Good  massa  de  great  blessing.  If  de  Lord 
had  gin  'em  me  I  neber  run  away  in  de  life.'  " 

"  And  did  you  run  away,  poor  creature,  from  a  cruel 
master?"  asked  Ildegerte,  compassionately. 

"Yes,  honey.  He  mighty  bad  man.  Eberybody 
'spise  him,  black  and  white.  He  treated  his  wife  aw 
fully.  I  do  b'lieve  she  done  dead  of  de  broken  heart. 
He  got  drunk  and  beat  her,  and  left  de  black  Satan 
mark  on  her  bosom.  No  wonder  he  whip  and  beat  de 
niggers,  when  he  neber  spare  good  missy.     She  neber 


292  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

'buse  us — she  treat  us  mighty  kind,  but  hi !  didn't  he 
make  up  for't,  raring  and  taring  and  swearing  like  old 
Sam  heself  ?  Well,  he  kept  on  aggravating  me,  worse 
and  worse,  when  one  night  he  sent  me  tramping  in  de 
cornfield  arter  someting  I  neber  left  dere.  I  kept  tink- 
ing  'bout  de  big  riber  and  de  free  folks  over  de  riber, 
and  I  come  down  to  it  jist  as  de  boat  gwine  to  cross,  jist 
as  de  smoke  go  puff,  puff  in  de  air.  Heap  of  folks 
gwine  to  cross.  I  steals  in  behind  dem.  Dat's  de  way 
I  run  off;  but  bless  de  heart,  missus,  I've  seen  sights 
since  dat  time.  I  go  to  white  folks — ask  for  de  work — 
dey  say  dey  no  use  for  de  cornfield  nigger  like  me. 
When  I  get  work  dey  make  me  do  all  de  drungery  of  de 
bus'ness.  Den  I  get  sick — nobody  care — pay  de  doc- 
tor bill,  pay  de  board.     Wonder  how  much  got  left?" 

Judy  paused  for  breath,  and  drew  the  sleeve  of  her 
left  arm  across  her  face.  Ildegerte  felt  very  weary,  and 
would  gladly  have  been  left  to  her  own  sad  thoughts ; 
but  she  pitied  the  poor,  forlorn  being,  who  knew  so  little 
how  to  appropriate  the  freedom  she  had  won.  She 
thought  of  Crissy  and  sighed — Crissy,  who  had  been  so 
tenderly  cared  for,  now  perhaps  friendless  and  home- 
less. 

"  Won't  missus  let  poor  July  wait  on  her  ?  I'd  go 
down,  crawling  all  de  way  on  he  hands  and  knees,  if  you 
only  let  me  go  back  to  de  South  when  you  go." 

At  the  mention  of  her  Southern  home,  the  vision  of 
its  sweet  acacia  groves,  flowering  vines,  and  bowers  of 


TIIE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  29o 

roses,  associated  with  the  remembrances  of  her  early 
love,  rose  bloomingly  before  her, — then  she  recollected 
her  desolate  widowhood,  and  burst  into  an  agony  of 
tears.  To  go  back  a  widowed  wife,  a  forsaken  mistress  ! 
Oh  !  how  sad  ! 

"The  Lord  forgib  me  for  dis  !"  cried  Judy.  "I  no 
business  to  talk  and  make  her  cry — bless  her  tender 
little  heart." 

"Don't  talk  any  more  now,"  said  Ildegerte,  when  sho 
had  subdued  her  emotion,  "I  will  not  forget  you,  and 
if  I  live  to  return,  you  shall  go  with  me  in  place  of  poor, 
faithless  Crissy." 

It  were  vain  to  attempt  a  description  of  Judy's  joy 
and  gratitude.  She  laughed  and  cried  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, then  ran  out  of  the  room,  that  she  could  give 
more  noisy  vent  to  her  feelings ;  then  coming  back  im- 
mediately, rocked  herself  backwards  and  forwards, 
pressing  the  palms  of  her  hands  together  and  whispering 
"glory."  Poor  Judy  had  never  known  what  real  kind- 
ness and  sympathy  was,  before.  Under  the  dominion 
of  a  harsh  and  brutal  man,  the  discipline  of  her  life  had 
developed  but  two  traits — sullen  endurance  of  wrong  at 
one  time,  and  a  bitter,  galling  sense  of  them  at  another. 
Her  master  was  cruel  to  her,  cruel  to  all  his  negroes, 
but  more  cruel  to  his  wife  and  children,  because  their 
hearts  felt  the  wounds  of  his  unkindness  more  keenly. 
But  he  was  not  irresponsible  for  all  this.  He  "was 
looked  upon  with  the  same  detestation  that  the  criminal 


294  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

is,  who  violates  the  immutable  laws  of  God  and  man. 
Good  men  shunned  his  fellowship,  and  the  social  ban 
was  on  his  brow. 

After  having  gained  her  freedom,  Judy  knew  not  how 
to  enjoy  it.  She  always  spoke  of  herself  in  such  a  de- 
preciatory manner  that  people,  judging  her  by  her  own 
estimate,  thought  her  a  "good-for-nothing  nigger,"  and 
refused  to  employ  her.  When  fortunate  enough  to  ob- 
tain employment,  the  white  servants  looked  upon  her 
as  an  underling,  and  imposed  upon  her  the  most  labo- 
rious and  servile  tasks.  Crissy's  description  of  her 
Southern  home,  of  the  contentment  and  comfort  that 
reigned  there,  of  the  kindness  of  her  mistress  and  mas- 
ter, and  the  many  privileges  she  enjoyed,  had  excited 
an  intense  desire  to  belong  to  the  same  household.  All 
the  latent  sensibilities  of  her  nature  were  called  forth 
by  the  sufferings  of  the  beautiful  young  creature  left  so 
desolate,  so  lone ;  and  she  was  perfectly  sincere  when 
she  said  that  she  was  willing  to  crawl  on  her  hands  and 
knees,  if  she  were  only  permitted  to  follow  her,  all  the 
days  of  her  life. 

We  would  not  depreciate  the  value  of  freedom.  It  is 
a  glorious  possession,  but  its  glory  depends  upon  the 
character  of  the  nation  or  individual  that  owns  it.  Has 
it  yet  reflected  glory  or  honour  on  the  negro  race  ?  Let 
the  voice  of  history  answer.  Turn  to  the  islands  where 
the  emancipated  slave  revels  in  unmolested  freedom. 
Turn  to   St.   Domingo,  where,  more  than  sixty  years 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        295 

since,  it  placed  upon  its  brow  a  sable  crown,  and  took 
into  its  hands  an  ebon  sceptre,  and  abjured  the  dominion 
of  the  white  man.  Under  the  most  propitious  influences 
it  commenced  the  exercise  of  its  regal  power.  What 
aspect  does  its  government  and  society  now  present? 
Lawlessness,  rapine,  and  murder  defy,  with  furious 
license,  the  laws  of  the  first,  and  idleness,  licentiousness, 
and  blasphemy  are  the  distinguishing  features  of  the 
last.  Too  indolent  to  labour,  too  reckless  to  provide 
for  future  want,  with  scarcely  energy  enough  to  pluck 
the  delicious  productions  of  their  rich  tropic  clime,  the 
lords  of  this  beautiful  isle  live  like  the  brutes  that  pe- 
rish ;  indulging  in  vices  as  exuberant  as  their  vegetation, 
and  fierce  and  desolating  as  the  storms  of  the  equinox. 

Do  the  British  West  India  Isles  exhibit  a  nobler  ad- 
ministration, a  purer  morality?  Emancipation  there 
has  been  the  work  of  a  later  day,  and  yet  the  same  dark 
scenes  of  violence  and  rapine  destroy  the  brightness  of 
these  gems  of  the  ocean,  and  change  to  the  hue  of  blood 
their  emerald  dye.  Unlicensed  liberty  riots  amid  the 
ruins  of  industry,  order,  and  peace.  Even  the  most 
awful  visitations  of  heaven,  to  which  these  glowing  re- 
gions are  subject,  have  no  power  to  check  their  crimes 
or  to  chasten  their  unhallowed  spirits.  Amid  the  con- 
vulsions of  nature,  the  throes  of  the  earthquake,  the 
shrieks  of  the  tempest,  they  indulge  in  the  wildest  ex- 
cesses of  sin,  and  commit  the  most  fearful  outrages. 
Has  liberty  proved  a  blessing  to  this  lawless  and  de- 


296  tiie  planter's  northern  eriee. 

generate  people  ?  Can  the  ark  of  freedom  float  secure 
over  these  turbid  and  billowy  waves  of  passion,  strife, 
and  crime  ? 

Could  Great  Britain  have  anticipated  the  result,  when 
"  she  lavished  her  hundred  millions  for  the  emancipation 
of  these  islands,  so  glorious  in  their  beauty,  so  wondrous 
in  their  fertility,  now  in  moral  ruin  and  decay,  would 
she  not  have  appropriated  it  to  the  relief  of  her  own 
starving  children,  of  her  nominally  free,  but  literally 
and  practically  enslaved  poor  ? 

For  thousands  of  years  past,  the  Africans  have  existed 
in  their  own  country  as  a  separate  people,  free,  as  they 
came  from  the  hands  of  God;  yet  what  one  solitary 
step  have  they  taken  in  the  great  march  of  civilization, 
beneath  whose  majestic  tramp  the  universe  is  resound- 
ing ?  While  other  nations,  all  around  and  about  it, 
have  been  advancing  with  mighty  strides,  Africa  has 
remained,  as  a  nation,  in  the  same  low,  degraded  con- 
dition in  which  it  pleased  the  Great  Creator  to  place 
her.  Surrounded  by  the  gorgeous  beauty  and  luxuriance 
of  a  tropic  clime,  with  such  magnificent  materials  ready 
for  its  use,  can  agriculture  show  one  improvement  made 
by  its  slothful  hands?  Do  the  mechanic  arts  owe  it 
one  invention  ?  Does  the  music  of  manufacture  echo 
over  its  rolling  streams  ?  No  ;  in  the  depth  and  dark- 
ness of  the  ignorance,  slothfulness,  sensuality,  and 
heathenism  in  which  it  was  sunk  nearly  four  thousand 
years  ago,  it  still  exists,  and  God  has  not  laid  bare  his 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         297 

omnipotent  arm  to  exalt  it  in  the  scale  of  being.  As  it 
was  in  the  beginning,  so  it  is  now. 

Why  not  arraign  the  Almighty  with  injustice  and 
partiality,  in  creating  one  nation  for  glory  and  honour, 
and  another  for  dishonour  and  degradation  ?  Why  not 
arraign  Him,  in  whose  sight  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
are  but  as  grasshoppers,  and  as  a  drop  of  water  in  the 
boundless  ocean  of  infinitude  ?  Him,  who  in  the  mighty 
work  of  creation,  has  exhibited  a  gradually  widening 
and  ascending  glory,  through  all  the  vast  range  of  in- 
animate and  animated  nature. — from  the  worm  that 
writhes  in  the  dust, 

"  To  the  rapt  seraph  that  adores  and  burns." 

Have  you  ever  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and 
then  mounted,  yea,  from  the  lowest  abyss  of  earth  ? 
The  steps  are  at  first  muddy  and  slimy  and  loathsome, 
but  as  you  go  upward  and  upward  they  become  golden 
rounds,  and  by  and  by,  you  can  see  the  angels  of  God 
ascending  and  descending,  as  in  the  dream  of  the  pa- 
triarch. Why  this  great  graduated  scale  ?  Son  of  man, 
answer  ! — why  ? 

But  is  Africa  free,  as  a  nation  ?     Its  negro  population 
is  estimated  at  sixty  millions,  and  of  this  number,  pro 
bably  forty  thousand  are  slaves, — slaves  under  a  bond- 
age of  iron,  a  yoke  of  thorns.*     The  African  master 

*  An  African  slave-trader  had  eight  thousand  of  his  countrymen  in 
captivity,  whom  he  was  about  to  sell  to  the  Portuguese  and  Spanish, 


298  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

is  indeed  irresponsible ;  he  has  the  power  of  life  and 
death  over  his  vassals ;  and  when  the  infirmities  of  age 
throw  them  helpless  and  therefore  useless  on  his  hands, 
he  crushes  them  as  regardlessly  as  you  would  the  reptile 
crawling  in  the  dust.  On  the  death  of  a  king  or  a 
chief,  whole  hecatombs  of  slaves  are  slaughtered  to  bear 
him  company  in  the  grave,  and  bow  to  his  sovereignty 
in  the  spirit-land, — thus  extending  their  idea  of  servi- 
tude beyond  the  dividing  line  of  time  and  eternity ! 
Nor  is  this  all ;  when  once  the  thirst  of  blood  is  kindled 
by  the  sacrificial  knife,  they  ofttimes  keep  the  sword 
of  massacre  unsheathed  till  whole  towns  are  bathed  in 
the  crimson  tide !  And  most  of  these  direful  deeds  are 
perpetrated  in  the  name  of  religion,  showing  how  dim 
and  dark  and  awful  are  their  ideas  of  God  and  futurity  ! 
how  thick,  how  impenetrable  the  blackness  that  shrouds 
their  moral  and  spiritual  vision  ! 

That  Africa  is  not  a  fallen  nation,  degraded  from  its 
original  position,  is  proved  by  abundant  testimony.  In 
no  part  of  the  continent,  where  the  native  negro  exists, 
are  there  any  remains  of  antiquity,  any  ruins  or  hiero- 
glyphics, to  prove  a  state  of  past  civilization  and  refine- 
ment.    He  has  left  no  more  monuments  than  the  beasts 

whose  slavers  were  then  in  port ;  but  two  English  frigates,  cruising 
along  the  coast,  month  after  month,  with  unrelaxing  vigilance,  baffled 
his  design.  At  length,  in  a  fit  of  desperation  and  rage,  he  set  fire  to 
the  building  in  which  they  were  imprisoned,  and  all  of  the  eight  thou- 
sand human  beings  were  burned  to  ashes.     Not  one  escaped. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  ERIDE.         299 

of  the  field,  or  the  fowls  of  the  air.  Nature  reigns 
there  in  all  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  its  virgin  prime  ; 
but  man  has  left  no  records  of  his  plastic  and  improving 
hand.  It  is  not  so  in  other  lands.  Look  at  Asia, — 
.0  matter  how  low  and  degraded  some  of  its  regions 
may  be,  you  will  find  the  traces  of  ancient  art  and 
civilization.  You  will  see  the  ruined  temple,  the  de- 
serted shrine,  the  dilapidated  dwelling,  telling  of  a 
once  cultivated  if  now  degenerate  race.  Even  statuary 
and  painting,  the  two  most  glorious  handmaids  of  art, 
have  left  the  print  of  their  gilding  footsteps,  amid  the 
desolation  and  gloom. 

Look  at  our  own  continent.  The  Aborigines  of 
America,  with  a  few  exceptions,  were  in  as  dark  and 
savage  condition  as  the  native  African.  Yet,  here  were 
found  similar  ruins  and  evidences  of  ancient  art.  In- 
deed, wherever  the  white  man  and  the  bronze  and  red 
man  exist,  there  is  the  indubitable  stamp  of  present  or 
ancient  civilization ;  but  no  lingering  ray  of  former 
genius  or  art,  streaming  on  her  night  of  darkness,  tells 
that  poor  degraded  Africa  ever  enjoyed  a  more  exalted 
destiny. 

At  home,  she  is  involved  in  shadows  whose  blackness, 
intense  as  the  hue  of  her  skin,  is  unrelieved  by  the 
brightness  of  the  day-star  of  hope.  In  our  own  South- 
ern land,  amid  lowliness  and  slavery,  she  has  learned  to 
lift  up  her  hands  unto  God.  Of  her  three  million  chil- 
dren dwelling  in  servitude  here,  more  than  six  hundred 


800  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

thousand  are  the  professed  followers  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  have  enrolled  their  names  with  the  sacramental  host 
of  God's  elect. 

Rejoice,  benighted  Africa !  Is  not  He,  who  led  the 
children  of  Israel  through  bondage  and  chains  to  the 
green  borders  of  the  promised  land,  leading  thee  also, 
in  His  own  appointed  way,  to  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
children  of  God  ? 

"I  am  the  Lord  and  there  is  none  else,  there  is  no 
God  besides  me.  I  girded  thee  though  thou  hast  not 
known  me. 

"  That  they  may  know  from  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
and  from  the  west,  that  there  is  none  beside  me.  I  am 
the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else. 

"  I  form  the  light  and  create  darkness ;  I  make  peace 
and  create  evil.     I  the  Lord  do  all  these  things." 

"  "Woe  unto  him  that  striveth  with  his  Maker.  Let 
the  potsherd  strive  with  the  potsherds  of  the  earth. 
Shall  the  clay  say  to  him  that  fashioned  it,  What  makest 
thou  ?  or  thy  work,  He  hath  no  hands  ?" 


CHAPTEK    XII 

"  Will  you  go  to  the  plantation  with  me  to-morrow, 
Ei.Ialia?"  asked  Moreland  of  his  wife,  a  few  days  after 
the  departure  of  Ildegerte. 

"Oh,  yes!"  she  answered  with  eagerness;  "there  is 
nothing  I  desire  so  much." 

"  As  the  season  has  advanced  with  uncommon  rapid- 
ity," said  he,  "they  have  already  commenced  the  picking 
of  cotton,  which  will  be  something  of  a  novelty  to  you. 
The  fields  are  whitening  for  the  harvest,  and  the  labour- 
ers are  gathering  it  in.  But  oh !  my  sweet  Northern 
wife!"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "what  a  trial  it  will  be 
of  your  love,  to  see  your  husband  in  the  full  exercise  of 
his  despotic  power !  You  have  only  seen  me  in  the 
household,  and  have  thought  me,  perhaps,  tolerably 
gentle.  But  what  will  you  say  when  you  see  me  driving 
lf>4  301 


302  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  poor  creatures  through  the  cotton  rows  with  ai 
knotted  lash,  and  making  the  white  bolls  red  with  their 
dripping  blood  ?  Can  you  love  me  still,  and  plead  the 
force  of  custom  in  my  behalf?" 

"  You  speak  mockingly.  I  fear  no  such  test  of  the 
strength  of  my  affection.  You  allude  to  what  I  once 
believed,  to  what  so  many  of  my  Northern  friends  still 
believe ;  and  I  cannot  wonder  so  much  at  the  scornful 
smile  that  curls  your  lip.  I  know  you  too  well  now  to 
credit  such  enormities.  How  I  wish  father  were  here, 
even  for  a  little  while !  Cannot  we  induce  him  to 
come  ?" 

"  I  hope  so.  I  hope  to  see  all  your  family,  my  Eu- 
lalia,  gathered  round  your  Southern  home.  Reuben  is 
to  be  a  lawyer.  The  professions  are  all  crowded  at  the 
North  ;  here  he  will  have  a  wider  scope  and  more  abund- 
ant materials  to  work  upon.  Plenty  of  litigation  here. 
I  promised  Dora  to  build  her  a  bower  of  roses,  and  peo- 
ple it  with  canaries  and  mocking  birds,  expressly  for 
her  accommodation.    Mark  my  prophecy,  Eulalia.    You 

will  have  all  your  family  here,  true-hearted  Southerners, 
by  and  by." 

"And  Betsy  with  them?"  said  Eulalia,  smiling. 

:'  Oh,  yes !  I  plighted  my  vows  to  Betsy,  before  our 
marriage,  and  I  must  not  falsify  them.     She  is  an  ho» 
nest,  industrious  creature,  worth  a  dozen  of  our  pam 
pered  negroes.     You  must  have  perceived,  even  now, 
how  much  heavier  the  burthen  of  servitude  is  at  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         303 

North  than  here,  where  the  labour  is  divided  among  so 
many." 

"Yes  !  in  the  town  ;  but  I  suppose  on  the  plantations 
they  must  work  very  hard  indeed,  even  when  they  have 
humane  masters  and  overseers." 

"You  shall  judge  for  yourself.  They  have  their  ap 
pointed  tasks,  and  then,  if  they  choose,  they  labour  for 
themselves.  There  is  one  trait  in  the  negro  character 
of  which  you  may  not  be  conscious.  You  cannot  make 
them  work  habitually  beyond  their  strength.  You  can 
get  a  certain  amount  of  labour  out  of  them,  and  beyond 
that  they  will  not  go.  Masters  and  overseers,  having 
learned  this  fact  from  experience,  seldom  attempt  to 
push  them  over  this  boundary.  If  they  do,  they  meet 
with  an  obstinate  resistance  which  coercion  never  can 
overcome. '  This  peculiarity  is  one  of  the  negro's  great- 
est safeguards  from  the  requirements  of  selfish  power. 
The  self-interest  of  his  employer  is  enlisted  on  his  side, 
and  we  all  know  what  a  powerful  principle  it  is.  A 
certain  amount  of  labour  is  a  blessing  to  every  human 
being.  That  God  willed  it  to  be  so,  is  proved  by  the 
withering  curse  of  ennui,  resting  on  the  idler.  You 
think,  perhaps,  it  must  be  a  curse  to  work  under  the 
burning  sun  of  our  sultry  clime.  It  would  be  for  me  ; 
it  would  be  for  the  white  man ;  but  the  negro,  native 
of  a  tropic  zone,  and  constitutionally  adapted  to  its 
beat,  luxuriates  in  the  beams  which  would  parch  us  with 
fever.     I  have  studied  him  physiologically  as  well  as 


SOi        THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

mentally  and  morally,  and  I  find  some  remarkable  cha- 
racteristics, perhaps  unknown  to  you.  In  the  first  place, 
his  skull  has  a  hardness  and  thickness  far  greater  than 
our  own,  which  defy  the  arrowy  sunbeams  of  the  South. 
Then  his  skin,  upon  minute  examination,  is  very  different 
from  ours,  in  other  respects  as  well  as  colour.  It  se- 
cretes a  far  greater  quantity  of  moisture,  which,  like 
dew,  throws  back  the  heat  absorbed  by  us.  I  could 
mention  many  more  peculiarities  which  prove  his  adapt- 
fcdness  to  the  situation  he  occupies,  but  I  fear  I  weary 
you,  Eulalia." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  have  heard  the  subject  discussed  since 
my  earliest  recollection,  yet  I  acknowledge  my  profound 
ignorance.  Every  circumstance  you  mention  is  new  to 
me." 

"No  man  living,"  added  Moreland,  with  a  counte- 
nance of  deep  and  earnest  thought,  "  regards  the  negro 
with  more  kindness  and  sympathy  than  myself.  I  would 
sooner  give  my  right  hand  to  the  flames  than  make  it 
the  instrument  of  cruelty  and  oppression  to  them.  They 
are  entwined  with  my  affections  as  well  as  my  interests. 
I  was  born  and  brought  up  in  their  midst,  and  they  are 
as  much  incorporated  with  my  being  as  the  trees  which 
have  shaded  my  infancy  and  childhood,  and  the  streams 
on  whose  banks  I  have  been  accustomed  to  wander.  I 
never  dreamed,  when  a  boy,  that  it  was  possible  to  sepa- 
rate my  existence  from  theirs,  any  more  than  I  could 
flee  from  the  shadows  of  night.     How  little  do  the  peo- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         305 

pie  of  the  North  reflect  upon  all  this  !  How  little  do 
they  understand  the  almost  indissoluble  ties  that  bind 
us  to  each  other !  And  yet,"  he  cried,  excited  to 
greater  warmth  as  he  proceeded,  "  strong  as  are  these 
ties,  and  dear  as  are  these  interests,  I  can  never  lock 
upon  the  negro  as  my  equal  in  the  scale  of  being.  He 
has  a  heart  as  kind  and  affectionate  as  my  own,  a  soul 
as  immortal,  and  so  far  I  claim  him  as  my  brother ;  but 
he  is  not  my  equal  physically  or  mentally,  and  I  do  not 
degrade  him  or  exalt  myself  by  this  admission.  When 
Africa,  as  a  nation,  stands  side  by  side  with  the  other 
nations  of  the  world  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  in  litera- 
ture and  genius,  by  its  own  inherent  energies  and 
powers,  then  I  will  subscribe  to  this  equality,  but  not 
till  then.  God  has  not  made  all  men  equal,  though  men 
wiser  than  God  would  have  it  so.  Inequality  is  one  of 
Nature's  laws.  The  mountains  and  the  valleys  proclaim 
it.  It  is  written  on  the  firmament  of  heaven.  It  is 
felt  in  the  social  system,  and  always  will  be  felt,  in  spite 
of  the  dreams  of  the  enthusiast  or  the  efforts  of  the 
reformer." 

Moreland  paused.  The  shadow  of  a  great  thought 
rested  on  his  brow.  Eulalia  looked  anxiously  towards 
him.     lie  smiled. 

"You  must  not  mind  me  when  I  fall  into  revery.  It 
is  my  habit.  But  come,  my  Eulalia," — there  was  inex- 
pressible grace  and  tenderness  in  the  manner  in  which 
he  thus  expressed  his  ownership — never  had  her  name 


306  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

sounded  so  sweet,  never  had  the  possessive  pronoun 
seemed  so  significant  or  appropriate — "  sing  me  one  of 
your  own  charming  songs.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal 
of  music,  but  never  anything  that  thrilled  my  heart  like 
the  voice  of  the  village  chorister." 

Eulalia  looked  at  the  superb  piano  that  stood  near, 
silent  beneath  its  crimson  cover,  at  the  guitar  swathed 
in  green,  leaning  against  the  wall,  instruments  which 
the  fingers  of  Claudia  had  once  swept,  and  a  blush  rose 
to  her  cheeks.  Moreland  interpreted  the  glance  and 
blush. 

"Will  my  wife  become  a  pupil,  for  my  sake?"  asked 
he,  drawing  her  towards  him.  "  Will  she  learn  the  use 
of  those  now  silent  keys  and  loosened  chords  ?" 

"Gladly,  most  gladly,"  she  answered.  "I  have 
always  sighed  for  such  advantages,  but  I  never  expressed 
the  wish.  I  knew  my  father  toiled  to  supply  us  with 
the  comforts  of  life.  How  could  I  be  selfish  enough  to 
beg  for  its  luxuries  ?" 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  we  return  from  the  plantation  we 
will  arrange  our  plans.  You  shall  have  the  best  of 
music  masters,  and  I  know  you  will  make  a  marvellous 
pupil.  But  after  all  there  is  no  instrument  comparable 
to  the  God-taned  human  voice  !" 

As  soon  as  Eulalia  began  to  sing,  the  little  EflSe  came 
flying  in,  and  nestling  in  her  arms,  listened,  as  if  an 
angel  were  singing.      She  sat  with  her  head  thrown 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   ERIDE.  307 

slightly  back,  her  red  lips  parted,  and  her  wildly  bril- 
liant eyes  suffused  with  a  glistening  moisture. 

"More!"  she  cried,  when  Eulalia  paused.  "Effie 
good  girl,  when  mamma  sing." 

"She  will  make  a  musician,"  said  Eulalia,  turning  'o 
her  husband,  while  she  fondly  caressed  the  child.  "  1 
never  saw  so  young  a  child  exhibit  such  a  passionate 
love  of  music.  Several  times,  when  she  has  stubbornly 
resisted  my  authority,  I  have  subdued  her  into  the  gen- 
tlest obedience,  by  singing  a  few  simple  strains." 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  it,"  said  Moreland,  gazing  with 
passionate  tenderness  on  the  lovely  young  stepmother, 
cradling  in  her  arms  the  brilliant  little  sprite,  whom  she 
was  teaching  him  to  love.  "I  am  sure  if  I  were  in  the 
wildest  paroxysm  of  anger,  your  voice  would  soothe  me 
into  peace." 

"But  you  never  have  such  paroxysms,"  said  she,  with 
a  smile ;  "  so  I  shall  have  no  opportunity  of  proving  my 
power  on  you." 

"  You  do  not  know  me,  my  Eulalia.  My  bosom  is  the 
couchant  lion's  lair." 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  angry.  I  think  the  lion 
must  be  very  tame.     I  do  not  fear  it." 

"You  need  not,"  said  he,  looking  fixedly  upon  ne 
sweet,  confiding,  angelic  countenance;  "you  could  bind 
it  with  a  silken  thread.      I  remember,   when   a  boy, 
reading    about   a  holy  virgin    going    on    a   pilgrimage 
through  the  wilderness,  and  the  wild  beasts  hushed  their 


308  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

bowlings,  and  crouched  submissively  at  her  feet.  The 
serpent  that  came  hissing  from  the  crevices  of  the  rocks, 
curled  in  loving  folds  innnoxious  in  her  path ;  and  the 
birds  flew  down  and  nestled  in  her  bosom.  You  have 
taught  me  the  meaning  of  that  allegory,  my  gentle 
wife." 

He  stooped  down,  kissed  her,  and  left  the  room.  He 
seemed  moved,  agitated.  There  was  a  world  of  sensi- 
bility in  the  darkening  lustre  of  his  eyes.  She  knew  he 
had  been  thinking  of  Claudia,  whose  name  had  never 
been  breathed  between  them  since  she  had  taken  her 
place  as  the  mistress  of  his  home.  A  thousand  times 
had  it  hovered  on  her  lips,  yet  she  had  never  dared  to 
utter  it;  and  the  past  seemed  a  sealed  book  to  him. 
The  servants  had  evidently  been  instructed  not  to  talk 
of  their  former  mistress ;  and  Eulalia  had  too  much 
delicacy  to  question  them  on  a  forbidden  theme.  Some- 
times Kizzie  would  say,  looking  at  Effie, 

"  Just  see,  ain't  she  the  living  military  of  her  mother  ? 
— them  black  eyes,  and  that  red,  saucy  mouth  of  hers. 
Dless  your  soul,  Kizzie!"  clapping  her  hand  over  her 
own  broad  lips,  "what  that  you  talking  'bout?  What 
your  Mars.  Russell  tell  you  ?  Poor  master !  he  had  a 
heap  of  trouble  ! — all  over  now,  tho',  bless  a  Lord !" 

Eulalia  well  knew  that  Kizzie  longed  to  relate  all  that 
she  knew ;  and,  had  she  questioned  her,  she  would  have 
considered  herself  bound  to  obey  her  mistress,  even  in 
opposition   to  her  master's  commands,  for  had  he  not 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  309 

told  her  himself,  to  obey  her  in  all  things  ?  But  Eula- 
lia's  respect  for  her  husband  equalled  her  love,  and  she 
considered  his  domestic  misfortunes  too  sacred  for  curi- 
osity. Yet  the  image  of  Claudia  was  for  ever  flitting 
before  her.  She  would  have  given  anything  for  one 
glimpse  of  the  face,  the  haunting  face,  her  imagination 
had  drawn.  It  was  not  jealousy  she  felt,  for  she  was 
sure  of  her  husband's  undivided  love;  but  he  had  loved 
and  wedded  another,  and  death  had  not  broken  the  nup- 
tial bond.  She  lived ! — where,  how  near,  she  knew  not. 
She  had  a  conviction  that  they  must  one  day  meet,  and 
a  thrill  of  indescribable  emotion  penetrated  her,  at  the 
thought.  She  knew  that,  whatever  were  the  circum- 
stances of  the  separation,  Moreland  was  not  the  offend- 
ing party ;  but  she  also  knew,  by  the  dark  expression 
that  sometimes  swept  over  his  countenance,  how  much 
and  deeply  he  must  have  suffered. 

"Oh,  never,  never  may  he  suffer  through  me!"  was 
her  soul's  most  fervent  prayer;  "let  sorrow,  danger, 
death  come,  if  God  will,  but  let  our  hearts  still  be  one. 
Welcome  any  thing,  every  thing  but  estrangement  from 
him !" 

The  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  they  commenced 
their  journey  to  the  plantation.  It  was  a  two  days' 
ride,  and  Kizzie  made  sumptuous  preparations  for  their 
comfort.  She  packed  up  the  greatest  quantity  of  cake, 
biscuits,  cold  ham,  and  tongue,  for  their  wayside  lun- 


310  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

cheons,  not  forgetting  the  generous  cordial  and  the 
sparkling  wine. 

"You  must  think,  Kizzie,  that  your  mistress  and  my- 
self are  blest  with  fine  appetites,"  said  Moreland, 
laughing. 

"Ain't  I  going  too,  Mars.  Russell,  and  ain't  Miss 
Effie  to  be  provided  for  ?  Besides,  one  likes  to  give  a 
bit  to  the  driver,  you  know,  master." 

"Is  it  your  wish  to  take  the  child?"  asked  he,  in 
some  surprise,  turning  to  Eulalia. 

"  Certainly — that  is,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  Oh,  no  !  but  will  she  not  trouble  you?" 

"Even  if  she  did,  I  would  not  like  to  leave  her  be- 
hind." 

"Then  I  will  go  on  horseback,  as  your  escort.  Kiz- 
zie will  occupy  a  very  comfortable  space  in  the  carriage, 
and  Effie  frisks  about  like  a  little  monkey,  wherever 
she  is." 

"Let  us  leave  her  by  all  means,  then,"  said  Eulalia. 
"I  did  not  think  of  its  depriving  you  of  a  seat.  How 
inconsiderate  I  am  !' 

"Effie,  my  darling,"  added  she,  taking  her  up  in  her 
arms,  "I  am  sorry  we  cannot  take  you;  but  Aunt  Kiz- 
zie will  be  very  good  to  you  while  we  are  gone.  And 
you  will  be  very  good,  will  you  not  ?'* 

"No!  I  won't  be  good!  I'll  go  too!"  cried  the 
child,  struggling  and  kicking  like  an  angry  kitten.  "  I 
won't  stay  !     Kizzie  sha'n't  stay  !" 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHMEN   BRIDE.  311 

The  little  creature's  eyes  actually  blazed  on  her  step- 
mother. 

"Take  her  away,  Kizzie,"  said  her  father;  "she  is  a 
perfect  little  tigress.  It  is  no  wonder,"  muttered  he,  in 
a  low  voice,  and  with  a  reddening  face. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Eulalia,  entreatingly ;  "you 
know  you  said  I  could  tame  the  beasts  of  the  field." 

Then  whispering  in  Effie's  ear  a  few  words  which 
seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  magic,  while  she  bent  upon 
her  her  soft,  serene,  dark  eyes  ;  the  child  remained  per- 
fectly still  a  moment,  while  the  angry  crimson  faded 
from  its  cheek,  then,  looking  up  with  the  gentleness  of 
a  lamb,  lisped — 

"  I  had  rather  not,  mamma  !" 

"Well!  you  are  certainly  a  female  Van  Amburg," 
said  Moreland,  wondering  at  the  sudden  transformation 
from  passion  to  gentleness  ;  "  let  her  go,  Eulalia.  Keep 
her  with  you,  by  all  means.  I  really  prefer  going  on 
horseback  ;  I  do  not  feel  half  a  man  pent  up  in  a  car- 
riage. Nothing  but  your  company  could  reconcile  me 
to  it,  and  that  I  can  enjoy  through  the  open  windows." 

Effie,  wild  with  delight,  was  perched  upon  the  seat 
before  the  others  were  half  ready,  swinging  her  little 
gipsy  straw  hat  by  one  string,  till  it  looked  like  a 
twisted  cord.  It  took  a  long  time  for  Aunt  Kizzie  to 
deposit  her  "goodies,"  as  she  called  them,  to  her  own 
satisfaction,  in  the  carriage-pockets  and  by-places;  and  it 
took  her  a  long  time  to  go  up  and  down  the  steps  of  the 


312  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

carriage,  as  she  had  a  good  deal  to  carry  besides  her 
bundles  and  bottles.  Albert,  who  stood  near,  holding  his 
master's  high-mettled  and  prancing  steed,  laughed  at  the 
audible  grunt,  by  which  she  relieved  her  fatigue,  every 
time  she  stooped.  He  laughed,  too,  to  see  little  Effie 
punch  her  with  her  feet,  as  she  tucked  away  the  packages ; 
but  he  laughed  still  more,  when  Kizzie  sailed  majestically 
by  him,  pretending  to  be  angry  and  consequential,  her 
face  beaming  with  good-nature  the  whole  time. 

When  Eulalia  was  about  to  take  her  place  at  Effie's 
side,  she  was  astonished  at  seeing  two  nice  pillows  on  the 
seat. 

"Why  are  these  here?"  she  asked.  "I  am  no  in- 
valid, Aunt  Kizzie,  to  require  propping.  Please  take 
them  out." 

"Wait  a  little,  missus,  while  I  tells  you  the  raal 
reason.  When  we  stops  at  night,  you  won't  find  a 
pillow-slip  fit  to  scrape  your  feet  on,  let  alone  your 
honey-sweet  face.  There  ain't  no  quality  folks  at  the 
stopping-places,  and  the  piny-woods  people  have  mighty 
curous  ways  of  doing  things,  I  tell  you,  missus." 

"  You  had  better  let  Kizzie  arrange  everything ;  you 
can  rely  on  her  judgment  and  experience,  '  said  More- 
land,  mounting  the  beautiful  horse,  whose  caracoling 
and  prancing  made  Eulalia  tremble  for  the  fearless 
rider.  "  You  are  not  familiar  with  the  phases  of  back- 
woods life,  Eulalia.  They  will  at  least  have  the  fresh- 
ness of  novelty." 


the  planter's  northern  bride.  813 

While  the  inspiring  breeze  of  morn  was  blowing,  and 
the  dew  yet  glittered  on  the  grass  of  the  wayside,  their 
ride  was  delightful  and  exhilarating.  The  bright-green 
tassels  of  the  silver  pine  showered  odours  as  they  waved 
above  them ;  the  sturdy  blackjack,  the  graceful  willow 
oak,  the  shining-leaved  magnolia,  alternately  shaded 
them  from  the  sunshine,  and  thrust,  here  and  there,  a 
projecting  bough  into  the  carriage  window  as  they  passed. 
Eulalia's  spirits  were  so  elastic,  she  could  have  bounded, 
like  Effie,  to  catch  the  festoons  of  hoary  moss  that  hung 
in  gray  loops  from  the  branches ;  and  when  the  noon- 
day-heat made  the  sandy  road  burn  under  the  horses' 
fetlocks,  and  flecks  of  foam  whiten  the  rich,  mahogany- 
coloured  skin,  and  they  all  stopped  near  a  beautiful 
spring,  that  gushed  right  out  of  a  rock,  and  sat  down 
on  the  mossy  ground,  while  Kizzie  fumbled  after  the 
goodies,  and  spread  them  out  on  a  broad,  flat  stone, 
close  to  the  spring,  and  put  the  bottles  in  the  bubbling 
water  to  cool,  Eulalia's  rapture  burst  forth  in  joyous 
ejaculations.  Moreland  was  charmed  with  her  child- 
like enthusiasm,  and  dipping  the  silver  cup,  which  the 
aristocratic  Kizzie  had  not  failed  to  bring,  in  the  heart 
of  the  fountain,  he  drank  sportively  to  the  health  of  his 
Northern  bride. 

"Stay  a  moment,"  he  said,  tossing  the  silver  cup  on 
the  grass.  "I  must  teach  you  how  to  drink  from  a 
greenwood  goblet." 

Then  gathering  some  large,  fresh,  glabrous  oak  leaves, 


314 


THE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN   BRIDE. 


he  wove  them  together  in  a  mysterious  manner,  so  as  to 
form  a  rural  cup.  Eulalia  declared  she  had  never  tasted 
a  draught  so  delicious  or  food  so  refreshing ;  while  Kiz- 
zie  looked  on  with  a  comfortable,  motherly,  liberal  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  as  if  she  had  not  only  provided 
the  feast,  but  the  spring,  the  greenwood,  and  the  cover- 
ing heavens  themselves,  for  their  accommodation.  An 
air  of  serene  repose  was  diffused  over  every  object,  and 
every  sound  breathed  of  tranquillity.  The  water  mur- 
mured and  gurgled  as  sweetly  and  softly  as  if  it  feared 
to  disturb  the  shadows  that  played  upon  its  bosom.  The 
trees  dipped  lightly  their  long,  swaying  branches  in  the 
fountain,  and  the  low,  musical  buzz  of  insect  life  gave 
one  the  idea  of  an  all-pervading,  void-filling,  infinite  ex- 
istence. The  horses  stood  quietly  feeding  in  the  shade, 
wrinkling  their  glossy  sides  and  napping  their  tails,  as 
the  flies  lit  upon  their  moist  hides ;  the  driver  reclined 
lazily  near  them,  trailing  his  whip  in  the  water  with  an 
occasional  glance  at  the  sun  to  see  how  late  it  was  get- 
ting ;  and,  fast  asleep  on  the  shady  grass,  with  her  little 
gipsy  hat  lying  by  her  side,  her  cheek  flushed  with  heat 
and  moist  with  perspiration,  Effie  presented  the  anoma- 
lous picture  of  a  noonday  fairy.  Moreland  and  Eulalia 
sat  side  by  side,  feeling  that  exquisite  sense  of  heart- 
communion  which  silence  only  can  express.  They  sat 
so  still,  so  near,  they  could  hear  the  beating  of  each 
other's  hearts,  and  there  was  no  need  of  any  other  lan- 
guage.    Eulalia  remembered  the  hour  when  she  thus  sat 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  315- 

ori  the  deck  of  the  steamboat,  in  the  hush  of  the  moon- 
light,  wishing  she  could  glide  on  for  ever  over  the  shin- 
ing river.  Even  so  she  wished  she  could  sit  for  ever, 
indulging  in  that  quiet  dream  of  happiness  in  the  midst 
of  the  languishing  brightness  of  noon  ;  but  the  journey 
was  before  them,  and  after  a  little  bustle  and  consider- 
able Aunt  Kzzzieism,  they  again  started.  After  travel- 
ling a  few  miles  they  began  to  ascend  a  long,  sandy, 
winding  hill,  and  so  slow  was  their  progress,  the  wheels 
sometimes  appeared  to  stand  still.  Moreland  rode  close 
to  the  carriage,  keeping  up  a  gay  conversation  with  Eu- 
lalia, in  which  Aunt  Kizzie  occasionally  joined  with 
the  freedom  of  a  privileged  member  of  the  family,  when 
they  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  carriage  slowly  descending, 
and  Moreland  turned  his  horse  into  a  side  path,  to  give 
the  two  carriages  room  to  pass  each  other.  Eulalia 
looked  out  with  the  interest  one  feels  in  meeting  stran- 
gers on  a  solitary  road,  where  the  sight  of  a  log-cabin 
is  an  event  worth  remembering,  and  even  a  grave-stone 
has  a  social  aspect. 

A  lady  sat  lolling  indolently  on  the  back  seat,  with 
her  arms  folded  in  a  drapery  of  black  lace.  She  was 
young  and  handsome  ;  but  what  chiefly  distinguished 
her  was  a  pair  of  large,  brilliant  black  eyes,  that 
glanced  carelessly  and  haughtily  towards  the  travellers 
she  was  about  to  meet.  The  moment  Eulalia  met  that 
cold,  bright,  haughty  glance,  she  started  as  if  it  had 
pierced  her  bosom,  and  leaned  against  the  window  side, 


31G  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

keeping  her  own  eyes  fixed  upon  the  stranger  with  an 
intense,  magnetic  gaze.  She  saw  the  brilliant,  haughty 
orbs  turn  from  her  to  Moreland  and  suddenly  flash  up 
like  burning  gas,  while  every  feature  expressed  scorn, 
hatred  and  revenge.  Never  had  she  seen  such  an  ex- 
pression on  woman's  face,  and  her  own  turned  pale  as 
marble  as  she  gazed.  She  looked  at  her  husband ;  he 
was  lividly  pale,  and  his  lips  had  the  rigidness  of  stone. 
Again  the  scorching  glance  flashed  back  into  the  car- 
riage and  riveted  itself  on  Eulalia  with  withering  scru- 
tiny. Erne,  with  the  eager  curiosity  of  childhood,  stood 
up  on  tiptoe,  and,  leaning  over  Eulalia's  lap,  exclaimed 
in  a  clear,  ringing,  decided  tone,  peculiar  to  herself, 

"Let  me  see,  mamma." 

At  sight  of  the  child,  at  the  sound  of  its  voice,  an 
instantaneous  change  passed  over  the  lady's  countenance. 
The  proud,  scornful,  defying  lip  quivered  with  sudden 
emotion ;  tenderness,  anguish,  and  remorse  swept  in 
clouds  over  her  haughty  features.  The  arms  so  disdain- 
fully, yet  gracefully  folded,  opened  as  if  to  clasp  her  to 
her  breast, — but,  with  one  more  revolution  of  the  wheels, 
it  all  fled  like  a  vision.  "Where  the  dark,  bright,  avenging 
angel  or  demon,  whichever  it  was,  appeared,  there  was 
empty  space,  with  the  white  glare  of  the  sand  below. 

When  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  the  driver 
stopped  the  panting  horses  to  give  them  breath,  and 
Moreland  approached  the  carriage ;  the  shadow  of  the 
thunder-cloud  yet  lingered  on  his  brow. 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  317 

"Eulalia,"  he  exclaimed,  startled  by  her  deadly  pale- 
ness, "Are  you  ill?     Are  you  faint  ?" 

She  shook  her  head,  but  so  great  was  her  agitation 
her  lips  faded  to  a  pale  ashy  hue. 

"  Give  her  some  wine,  Kizzie  !  She  is  faint !  She 
will  faint !     There  is  no  water  to  be  had  !" 

Kizzie  fumbled  in  the  pocket  for  the  silver  cup, 
declaring  in  her  trepidation,  that  she  believed  "her 
fingers  was  all  thumbs."  Moreland,  with  a  gesture  of 
impatience,  threw  his  bridle  reins  to  the  driver,  and, 
jumping  into  the  carriage,  placed  Effie  in  Kizzie's  lap, 
seated  himself  by  Eulalia  and  put  his  arm  around  her. 

"It  is  all  over  now,"  she  said,  the  cold,  benumbing 
sensation  passing  away.  "I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled 
you  so." 

"Troubled  !"  he  repeated.  "Don't  talk  in  that  way, 
my  Eulalia,  when  you  know  I  would  lay  down  my  life 
at  any  moment  to  save  you  from  suffering." 

Yes !  she  knew  he  would — she  had  not  one  doubt 
of  his  exclusive  devotion  to  herself, — then  why  the  sick 
ening  anguish  she  had  just  endured  ?  Was  it  jealousv 
of  the  past  or  dread  of  the  future  ?  or  were  the  mingling 
shades  of  both  rolling  darkly  over  her  soul  ?  She  had 
been  so  happy  a  few  moments  before.  Why  had  this 
woman  come  in  her  dark,  splendid,  terrible  beauty,  be- 
tween her  and  hor  happiness  ?  Yet,  had  she  not  yearned 
to  behold  her  with  strong,  irrepressible  desire  ?  Yes  ! 
but  now  that  desire  was  fulfilled,  she  would  give  any- 
155 


318  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTIIERN   BRIDE. 

thing  to  shut  out  the  image  of  that  flashing,  passionate, 
haunting  countenance.  Ashamed  of  her  want  of  self- 
possession,  she  raised  her  eyes  and  met  those  of  her 
husband  fixed  so  earnestly  and  sadly  upon  her,  that 
every  other  feeling  was  swallowed  up  in  sympathy  for 
him.  What  untold  agony  he  must  have  suffered,  and 
yet  he  cared  only  for  her,  foolish,  childish,  selfish  as  he 
must  think  her !  Sure  it  was  her  place  to  soothe  and 
comfort  him,  and  beguile  him  of  the  remembrance  of  his 
wrongs. 

"I  am  better,"  said  she,  with  a  smile;  "nay,  lam 
quite  well.  You  must  not  feel  anxious  if  I  do  look  pale 
now  and  then.  You  shall  find  that  I  am  a  heroine,  for 
all  that." 

"I  believe  you,"  he  replied,  his  grave,  sad  counte- 
nance lighting  up  in  her  smile.  "Kizzie,  supposing  you 
take  my  seat  on  horseback  and  let  me  lounge  in  the  car- 
riage a  while  ?" 

"  Oh,  master,  wouldn't  I  look  funny  on  that  are  fine 
beast?  Wouldn't  young  missus  laugh  till  she  done 
dead?" 

"  A  merry  laugh  would  do  her  no  hurt ; — but  you  ride 
like  an  Amazon,  Kizzie.  Come,  I  am  not  afraid  to  trust 
you!" 

Eulalia  thought  him  in  jest,  but  Kizzie  knew  that  he 
was  in  earnest,  and  prepared  to  obey  with  great  good- 
nature. She  had  no  objection  to  stretch  her  limbs  and 
carry  on  a  social  chat  with  the  driver.     She  had  been 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         819 

brimming  with,  indignation  at  the  sight  of  Claudia,  whoso 
evil  eye  she  had  no  doubt  had  made  her  young  mistress 
sick,  and  she  was  bursting  to  have  a  talk  with  some 
body. 

"Let  me  ride  with  mammy,"  exclaimed  Effie,  spring- 
ing up  with  elfish  lightness;  "I  so  tired  sitting  here — I 
most  sick !" 

"  Yes,  Mars.  Russell,  let  me  have  little  missy  right 
here,"  said  Kizzie,  who  had  mounted  the  spirited  animal 
from  the  steps  of  the  carriage  with  an  agility  that  sur- 
prised Eulalia,  considering  her  rheumatic  affection.  The 
next  moment  Effie  lighted  on  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 
like  a  bright-winged  bird,  and  burst  into  wild,  exulting 
laughter.  Nor  did  she  laugh  alone — for  Kizzie's  figure 
did  form  an  extraordinary  contrast  to  her  young  mas 
ter's.  She  looked  very  much  like  a  large  ball  of  Indi^ 
rubber,  with  a  butterfly  sticking  to  it ;  but  the  ballj 
though  it  seemed  to  roll  about,  this  side  and  that,  and 
threaten  to  tumble  off,  kept  its  place,  as  if  it  knew  what 
it  was  about.  It  bounded  up  and  down,  when  the  horse 
pranced,  as  he  always  would  when  any  one  first  mounted 
his  back,  but  it  settled  in  the  right  spot,  and  in  spite  of 
a  quivering,  jelly-like  motion,  maintained  its  equilibrium 
to  the  last. 

"  Laugh  away,  young  missus,"  said  she,  "  it  does  me 
good  to  hear  you.  Mars.  Russell  put  me  here  purpose 
to  make  you  laugh.     What  I  going  to  do  with  this  here 


320  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

strap  ?  Can't  get  my  big  foot  where  master  does  Lis  ! 
Hi — see  how  Kizzie's  long  heel  stick  out !" 

As  she  was  not  encumbered  with  long,  flowing  skirts, 
the  form  of  her  feet  and  ankles  were  liberally  displayed. 
Eulalia  could  not  help  laughing,  and  the  horse,  turning 
his  head  entirely  round  and  gazing  at  his  new  rider, 
seemed  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  change,  and  twink- 
ling his  eyes  merrily,  jogged  on,  like  a  cornfield  animal, 
accommodating  itself  to  circumstances. 

Moreland  had  accomplished  his  object.  He  had 
diverted  the  thoughts  of  Eulalia  from  the  dark  channel 
in  which  they  were  flowing,  and  he  was  left  alone  at  her 
side.  Then  he  opened  to  her  his  whole  heart,  and  told 
her  all  the  history  of  the'  past,  without  any  reservation. 
From  the  perfect  confidence  of  this  hour,  "  that  perfect 
love  which  casteth  out  fear"  was  born  in  Eulalia's 
bosom.  She  felt  as  one  does,  who,  after  gazing  in  qua- 
king terror  on  the  ghost  which  imagination  has  created, 
finds  it,  on  approach,  a  mass  of  shadows  or  a  bundle  of 
moonbeams.  The  interdicted  name,  the  forbidden  sub- 
ject, the  deserted  dwelling,  are  always  invested  with  a 
dread  charm,  which  vanishes  with  familiarity.  While 
there  is  one  forbidden  theme  to  a  husband  and  wife,  it 
will  rise  between  them  a  cold,  icy  barrier,  freezing  by 
slow  degrees  the  living  warmth  of  love.  It  was  well 
that  Moreland  felt  the  truth  of  this  in  the  morning  glow 
of  their  wedded  life,  when  the  dew  was  on  the  flower  and 
the  freshness  on  the  leaf  and  the  glory  in  the  sky.     It 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         321 

kept  off  the  mildew  and  the  cloud.  It  kept  away  the 
tempest  and  the  whirlwind. 

"Is  this  where  we  are  to  rest  for  the  night?"  asked 
Eulalia,  as  they  stopped  about  twilight  at  the  door  of  a 
log-cabin,  whose  dark  and  dingy  walls  were  unrelieved 
by  a  single  pane  of  glass,  the  light  and  air  being  ad- 
mitted through  wooden  shutters. 

"Even  so,"  answered  her  husband,  as  he  assisted  her 
to  alight.     "Are  you  sorry  you  came  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  it  makes  me  think  a  little  of  poor  Nancy's 
cottage,  only  hers  has  glass  windows." 

"Are  you  very  tired,  Kizzie  ?"  said  she,  hearing- 
several  expressive  grunts,  as  she  descended  from  the 
saddle,  fearing  she  had  purchased  the  happinesss  of 
her  husband's  company  at  the  expense  of  Kizzie's  com- 
fort. 

"I  does  feel  sorter  bruised,  missus,  but  not  more 
than  I  can  bear ;  you  see  I  ain't  used  to  master's  saddle 
no  how,  and  it  makes  me  a  little  oneasy  and  discom- 
forted. Never  mind,  missus  ;  if  you  and  Mars.  Hussell 
is  satisfied,  Kizzie  won't  complain." 

Though  it  was  a  warm  evening,  a  bright  lightwood 
fire  burned  in  the  large  tumble-down  looking  chimney. 
It  was  the  lamp  that  lighted  the  cabin,  and  displayed, 
in  its  broad  illumination,  the  persons  of  its  occupants. 
A  man,  hard-favoured  and  sun-browned,  who  had  evi- 
dently been  at  work  in  the  field,  sat  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
smoking   a  long  pipe,   in   the  back-door.      A  woman, 


611  TILE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

nearly  as  brown  as  himself,  dressed  in  the  coarsest  home- 
spun, stood  looking  out  of  the  front  window,  while  two 
girls,  one  about  twelve,  the  other  fifteen,  with  short, 
thick,  coarse  brown  hair  hanging  in  masses  over  their 
eyes,  while  dark  calico  sunbonnets  covered  their  heads, 
were  peeping  over  her  shoulders.  They  all  appeared 
very  clean  and  tidy,  though  rough  and  uncouth.  Their 
frocks  were  of  a  dark  indigo  colour,  and  they  all  wore 
dark-blue  woollen  mitts,  with  long  points  reaching  over 
the  backs  of  their  hands.  Why  they  were  so  careful  of 
these  members,  which  were  of  the  hue  of  mahogany, 
was  a  mystery,  especially  the  two  girls,  whose  feet  were 
bare  as  Eve's  were  in  Paradise.  Their  costume  gave 
Eulalia  such  an  impression  of  warmth,  that,  combined 
with  the  bright  blaze  and  long  wreaths  of  blue  smoke 
curling  up  round  the  warm,  brown  face  in  the  back  door, 
made  her  feel  very  sultry  and  uncomfortable.  She  was 
sure  she  would  melt  and  suffocate ;  but  she  was  very 
much  amused,  notwithstanding,  with  the  rustic  greeting 
that  welcomed  them.  Her  husband  was  received  as  a 
known  guest,  and  evidently  an  honoured  one.  Aunt 
Kizzie  was  also  recognised  kindly ;  but  on  her,  as  the 
Squire's  new  lady,  they  bestowed  most  abundant  atten- 
tion. They  came  up  to  her,  extending  their  hands  in  a 
straight  line,  while  the  long  blue  tongues  on  the  back 
of  their  hands  flapped  up  and  down,  and  gave  her  the 
true,  hearty,  backwood  gripe.  Then  the  two  girls 
walked  around  her,  looking  at  her  admiringly  through 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         823 

their  short,  thick  hair,  and  taking  an  inventory  of  her 
dress.  The  little  Effie  too  received  her  due  share  of 
admiration,  and,  heing  a  child,  they  ventured  to  approach 
her,  as  she  sat  enthroned  on  Aunt  Kizzie's  lap,  and  even 
slipped  their  fingers  into  her  coal  black  ringlets.  But 
the  little  lady  was  tired,  sleepy,  and  consequently  cross 
and  inaccessible.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  haughti- 
ness with  which  she  repelled  their  advances. 

"  Get  away !"  she  cried,  drawing  up  her  right  shoul- 
der and  pushing  them  with  her  feet ;  "  you  too  ugly — 
you  shan't  touch  me  !" 

"  Shame,  little  missy,"  said  Kizzie,  gathering  the 
offending  feet  in  her  black  fingers — "  Is  that  the  way 
quality  ladies  talk?" 

Eulalia,  though  shocked  at  the  child's  imperious  rude- 
ness, knew  it  was  not  the  moment  to  correct  it.  She 
thought  of  the  eyes,  so  full  of  pride,  disdain,  and  vin- 
dictiveness — eyes  that  seemed  burning  on  her  still,  and 
trembled  to  think  that  those  dark  passions  might  have 
been  transmitted  to  the  bosom  of  her  offspring  Then 
she  remembered  the  look  of  yearning  anguish  she  had 
cast  upon  her  child,  the  opening  arms,  the  bending  figure, 
and  intense  pity  quenched  her  aversion. 

"You  had  better  put  Effie  to  bed,  Kizzie,"  said  she, 
looking  round  the  room,  with  a  vague  feeling  of  anxiety 
about  their  accommodations  for  the  night.  Moreland 
was  watching  her  bewildered,  half-frightened  glance,  and 
could  not  forbear  smiling;.     There  seemed  to  be  but  that 


324  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

one  room  in  the  whole  house,  for  the  rafters  overhead 
indicated  that  there  was  no  upper  story.  There  were 
four  beds  in  the  room,  one  in  each  corner,  two  of  them 
covered  with  white  counterpanes,  having  a  deep  border 
of  netting,  and  the  two  others  with  patchwork  quilts. 
The  corners  occupied  by  the  white  beds  were  evidently 
considered  the  guest-chambers  of  the  establishment,  and 
in  one  of  these  Kizzie  deposited  the  now  sleeping  Effie. 

Eulalia  had  reason  to  thank  the  providing  care  of 
Kizzie,  in  having  supplied  them  so  liberally  with  home 
dainties,  for  she  could  taste  nothing  at  supper  but  a  cup 
of  milk.  Tumblers  and  goblets  were  unknown  luxuries 
to  this  family  of  primitive  habits.  A  large  dish  of  bacon 
and  greens,  flanked  by  tremendous  hoe-cakes,  was  the 
crowning  glory  of  the  table.  A  remnant  of  a  cold  sweet- 
potato  pie,  and  some  gingerbread  cakes,  as  large  as 
cheeses,  were  extra  flourishes  of  gentility,  introduced  in 
honour  of  the  guests.  But  what  chiefly  attracted  Eula- 
lia's  admiration  was  the  candlestick  which  dignified  the 
centre  of  the  table — a  large  gourd,  with  a  tall,  majestic 
handle,  truncated  to  receive  a  dim  compound  of  beeswax 
and  tallow,  stood  upright  and  towering  as  Cleopatra's 
Needle,  giving  an  occasional  contemptuous  sputter,  and 
shooting  upwards  a  long,  fierce,  fiery  wick. 

"Come,  squire,"  said  the  lord  of  the  feast,  "set 
yourself  convenient,  and  lay  to  and  help  yourself.  We 
don't  stand  for  ceremony  in  the  piny  woods — not  a  bit. 
Your  lady  there  don't  eat  one  mouthful.     I  'spose  she 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         325 

ain't  used  to  such  coarse  vittles.  She  don't  look  as  if 
she  was.  I  tell  you  what,  squire,  you  oughter  leave  her 
in  the  woods  a  while,  and  let  her  scuffle  about  with  my 
gals  a  while.  Then  she'd  have  an  appetite.  See  how 
brown  and  strong  they  look  !" 

"  I  do  sometimes  envy  the  labouring  man  his  keen 
appetite  and  sound  sleep,"  answered  Moreland  :  "but 
we  indulged  in  too  late  a  luncheon  to  do  justice  to  your 
hospitality." 

"  Well,  squire,  it's  the  truth,"  said  the  farmer,  laying 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  using  his  sleeve  for  a  nap- 
kin ;  "there's  nothing  like  work  to  make  a  man  con- 
tented. I  wouldn't  changes  places  with  nobody — I 
wouldn't  give  a  snap  for  a  fine  house.  What's  the  use, 
I  want  to  know,  of  so  much  paint  and  white-wash? 
It  just  shows  the  dirt.  Who  wants  to  sit  on  anything 
better  than  a  good  splint-bottomed  chair  ?  Not  I. 
As  for  eating,  I  wouldn't  give  this  bacon  and  greens 
for  all  your  stuffed  nonsense  and  made  up-dishes.  It's 
a  great  thing,  squire,  to  know  what  you're  eating. 
Here's  my  old  woman  and  I  hain't  had  a  day's  sickness, 
to  speak  of,  since  we  was  married,  and  the  gals  are  as 
tough  and  healthy  as  all  out  doors." 

"Do  you  never  have  chills  and  fevers?"  asked  More- 
land. 

"  Pho  !  what's  that  ?  We  don't  call  that  sickness. 
Shake  a  little  one  day,  up  and  smart  as  a  pipestem  the 
next.  I  mean  your  right  down,  regular,  doctor-bill 
sickness,  that  takes  all  a  man  earns  to  pay  for.    There's 


D26  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

only  one  thing  I  want,  and  that  is,  to  give  my  gals  an 
eddication.  I  am  going  to  send  them  to  school  next 
year,  if  I  have  a  good  crop  this.  Eddication  is  a  beau- 
tiful thing  in  a  woman ;  it  don't  matter  so  much  in  a 
man,  'cause  he's  got  more  natteral  smartness  ;  but  it 
does  set  a  woman  off  mightily.  My  old  woman,  here, 
is  a  right  good  scholar.  She  can  write  as  good  a  hand- 
write  as  anybody  need  want  to  see." 

The  good  lady  really  blushed  at  this  compliment  from 
her  husband,  but  was  evidently  pleased  and  grateful. 
Eulalia  began  to  like  her  new  acquaintances,  for  their 
homely  good  sense,  contentment,  and  appreciation  of 
each  other.  There  was  one  fact  that  impressed  her  as 
very  strange.  The  father  spoke  as  if  his  daughters  had 
their  education  yet  to  begin,  though  the  eldest  was  fast 
approaching  the  years  of  womanhood.  She  thought  of 
the  superior  advantages  of  the  children  of  New  England, 
where  the  blessings  of  education  are  as  diffusive  as  the 
sunbeams  of  heaven,  gilding  the  poor  and  lowly  as  well 
as  the  rich. 

"Are  you  very  weary?"  asked  Moreland  of  his  wife, 
after  the  supper-table  w  „s  removed  and  the  farmer  had 
smoked  another  pipe. 

"No!  I  have  been  so  much  interested  in  studying 
character,"  she  remarked  in  a  low  voice,  "that  I  have 
quite  forgotten  my  fatigue." 

"Let  us  walk,  then,  awhile.  The  night  is  mild  and 
starry,  and  the  scenery  around  wild  and  picturesque." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         327 

Knowing  the  early  habits  of  this  class  of  people,  he 
knew  they  would  have  an  opportunity  of  retiring  during 
their  ramble,  to  their  own  peculiar  corners,  and  that 
poor  Eulalia  would  thus  be  saved  from  unspeakable  em- 
barrassment. 

They  extended  their  walk  to  a  spring,  whose  gushings 
made  soft  music  in  the  ear  of  night.  The  back-wood 
farmer  always  pitches  his  tent  near  some  welling  spring, 
where  his  horses  and  his  cattle  can  be  abundantly  wa- 
tered and  his  own  thirst  slaked  at  will.  A  beautiful 
grove  of  willow  oaks  surrounded  it,  and  a  sweet,  low, 
quivering  sound  went  through  their  branches. 

"What  a  lonely  life  this  family  must  lead  !"  said  Eu- 
lalia ;  "no  neighbours,  no  friends,  no  intercourse  with 
society,  save  what  the  passing  stranger  permits  them  to 
enjoy.     It  seems  like  living  in  a  wilderness." 

"And  so  it  is ;  and  yet,  you  see,  this  life  has  its  own 
peculiar  enjoyments.  You  must  recollect  that  it  is  com- 
paratively but  a  few  years  since  the  red  man  was  lord 
of  these  woods  and  plains,  and  the  wild  beast  made  its 
lair  in  their  shades.  This  man,  energetic  and  intelli- 
gent, is  breaking  in,  as  they  say,  a  new  portion  of  the 
country,  and  by  and  by  the  wild  places  will  show  the 
beauty  of  cultivation.  He  has  already  made  money 
enough  to  purchase  some  negroes,  who  assist  him  in  the 
field,  he  being  chief  workman,  as  well  as  overseer.  His 
children,  I  doubt  not,  will  be  rich,  and  be  associated 
with  the  magnates  of  the  land.     Our  social  system  is 


328  the  planter's  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

like  the  tree  now  bending  over  you,  Eulalia, — its  roots, 
without  grace  or  beauty,  are  hidden  in  the  earth,  from 
which  they  derive  strength  and  support ;  its  hardy  trunk 
rises,  without  ornament,  brown  and  substantial ;  then 
rllie  branches  extend,  green  with  foliage,  and  the  birds 
of  the  air  make  their  nests  among  the  leaflets.  Hark  ! 
there  is  a  mocking-bird  singing  now." 

Yes  !  the  nightingale  of  the  South  was  just  over  their 
heads,  and  rills  of  melody,  clear,  silvery,  liquid  as  the 
waters  of  the  spring,  came  flowing  down,  and  bubbled 
and  sparkled  around  them.  It  sounded  as  if  a  whole 
orchestra  of  birds  were  practising  their  wild  overtures 
and  cavatinas  for  a  great  concert,  so  rich  and  varied 
were  the  notes.  Surely  such  waves  of  music  could  not 
roll  from  one  little,  slender,  feathered  throat !  Ah ! 
the  mocking-bird  is  the  Jenny  Lind  of  the  wild-wood, 
and  her  single  voice  has  echoed  through  the  world  ! 

A  very  different  serenade  greeted  them  when  they 
returned  into  the  cabin.  A  deep,  sonorous  bass  was 
rising  from  under  one  of  the  patchwork  bed-covers, — 
showing  that  the  weary  were  resting  from  their  labours. 
Every  one  was  wrapped  in  profound  slumber.  Kizzie, 
whose  pallet  was  spread  upon  the  floor  by  the  side  of 
little  Effie,  was  nodding  in  a  chair  to  some  invisible 
potentate,  while  waiting  for  her  young  mistress  to  retire. 
In  spite  of  the  novelty  of  her  situation,  and  the  loud, 
stentorian  breathing  within  the  room,  Eulalia  was  soon 
wandering  in  the  far-off  land  of  dreams.     When  she 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         329 

awoke,  the  patchwork  quilts  were  smoothly  spread,  the 
workman  abroad  in  the  field,  his  wife  busy  with  her 
household  duties,  with  the  family  poke  on  the  top  of  her 
head;  the  girls,  in  their  long-pointed  blue  mitts  and 
dark  calico  sun-bonnets,  seeming  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency ;  and  Effie,  bright  as  the  morning,  frolicking  all 
over  Aunt  Kizzie.  Moreland  had  gone  out  to  meet  the 
sun,  whose  coming  was  heralded  by  banners  of  crimson 
and  gold  unrolled  in  the  East.  Eulalia's  toilet  was  soon 
completed,  but  when  she  looked  round  in  perplexity  for 
a  ewer,  that  she  might  wash  her  face  and  hands,  Kizzie 
made  mysterious  signs  for  her  to  come  to  the  door. 

"You  see,  missus,"  she  whispered,  "these  is  nobody 
but  Georgia  crackers  ;  they  just  lives  any  which  way  ; 
the  way  they  washes,  they  pours  water  out  of  the  gourd 
on  their  hands,  and  then  scrubs  their  faces.  I  brought 
some  towels,  and  if  you'll  just  step  down  to  the  spring 
I'll  bring  'em,  and  little  missy,  too, —  there's  where 
massa  washed  hisself." 

Eulalia  was  quite  delighted  with  Aunt  Kizzie's  arrange- 
ment, and  felt  the  joy  of  childhood  glowing  in  her  heart, 
as  she  bathed  her  face  in  the  cool,  gurgling  fountain,  and 
moistened  the  soft  waves  of  her  dark-brown  hair.  It 
brought  a  pale  but  beautiful  bloom  to  her  cheek,  which 
the  master  of  the  house  complimented,  by  telling  her 
she  looked  'most  as  well  as  his  gals  did. 

"  You  going  to  put  me  horseback  to-day,  Mars.  Rus- 


330  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

sell?"  asked  Kizzie,  putting  on  a  rueful  look,  when  the 
horses  and  carriage  were  at  the  door. 

"No,  Kizzie.  I  think  that  would  be  too  great  a 
task." 

"Lordy,  master,  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  mean  you 
going  to  ride  in  the  carriage  this  time  ?" 

"I  believe  I  will  ride  in  the  open  air  this  morning," 
ne  replied,  to  the  great  joy  of  Kizzie,  who  had  an  im- 
pression that  she  did  not  appear  to  particular  advantage 
as  an  equestrian,  and  who  was  not  partial  to  the  exercise 
in  general. 

The  parting  benediction  of  the  family  was  a  cordial 
"  wish  you  well"  and  "  be  sure  and  come  agin  ;"  and  it 
probably  had  more  heart  in  it  than  the  graceful  adieus 
and  au  revoirs  of  the  fashionable  world. 

It  was  just  before  sunset  when  they  arrived  at  the 
plantation,  and  Moreland  welcomed  Eulalia  to  her  coun- 
try home.  , 

And  now  for  the  first  time  she  realized  that  she  was 
the  wife  of  a  Southern  planter. 

All  around,  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  rich,  rolling 
fields  of  cotton,  bearing  the  downy  wealth  of  the  South, 
stretched  out  a  boundless  ocean  of  green,  spotted  with 
white,  like  the  foam  of  the  wave.  Long  rows  of  white- 
washed cabins,  extending  back  of  the  central  building, 
whose  superior  style  of  architecture  distinguished  it  as 
the  master's  mansion,  exhibited  some  black  sign  at  every 
doj>r,  to  show  the  colour  of  the  occupants.     Though  it 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    ERIDE.  S31 

wanted  something  of  the  usual  time,  as  Moreland  wished 
Eulalia  to  witness  a  true  plantation  scene  before  the 
duskiness  of  twilight,  he  ordered  the  bugle  blast  to  sound 
which  called  the  labourers  home,  and  its  echoes  rolled 
'.  ver  the  whitened  plains  with  clear  and  sweet  reverbera- 
tions. Soon,  returning  in  grand  march  from  the  fields, 
came  the  negroes,  poising  on  their  heads  immense  bas- 
kets, brimming  with  the  light  and  flaky  cotton.  Little 
children,  looking  very  much  like  walking  semicolons, 
toddled  along,  balancing  their  baskets  also,  with  an  air 
of  self-importance  and  pride.  Eulalia  gazed  with  a 
kind  of  fascination  on  the  dark  procession,  as  one  after 
another,  men,  women,  and  children,  passed  along  to  the 
gin  house  to  deposit  their  burdens.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
were  watching  the  progress  of  a  great  eclipse,  and  that 
soon  she  would  be  enveloped  in  total  darkness.  She  was 
a  mere  speck  of  light,  in  the  midst  of  shadows.  How 
easy  it  would  be  to  extinguish  her  !  She  recollected  all 
the  horrible  stories  she  had  heard  of  negro  insurrections, 
and  thought  what  an  awful  thing  it  was  to  be  at  the 
mercy  of  so  many  slaves,  on  that  lonely  plantation. 
When  she  saw  her  husband  going  out  among  them,  and 
they  all  closed  round,  shutting  him  in  as  with  a  thick 
cloud,  she  asked  herself  if  he  were  really  safe.  Safe ! 
Napoleon,  in  the  noonday  of  his  glory,  surrounded  by 
the  national  guard,  was  not  more  safe — more  honoured 
or  adored.  They  gathered  round  him,  eager  to  get 
within  reach  of  his  hand,  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the 


oil  THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   ERIDE. 

glance  of  his  kind,  protecting,  yet  commanding  ejTe. 
More  like  a  father  welcomed  by  his  children  than  a  king 
greeted  by  his  subjects,  he  stood,  the  centre  of  that 
sable  ring.  Eulalia  thought  she  had  never  seen  him 
look  so  handsome,  so  noble,  so  good.  She  had  never 
felt  so  proud  of  being  his  wife.  An  impression  of  his  » 
power,  gently  used,  but  still  manifest,  produced  in  her 
that  feeling  of  awe,  softened  by  tenderness,  so  delicious 
to  the  loving,  trusting  heart  of  woman.  He  appeared 
to  her  in  a  new  character.  She  had  known  him  as  the 
fond,  devoted  bridegroom ;  now  he  was  invested  with 
the  authority  and  responsibility  of  a  master.  And  she 
must  share  that  responsibility,  assist  him  in  his  duties, 
and  make  the  welfare,  comfort,  and  happiness  of  these 
dependent  beings  the  great  object  of  her  life.  He  had 
twined  round  her  the  roses  of  love,  but  she  was  not  born 
to  sit  idly  in  a  bower  and  do  nothing  for  those  who  were 
toiling  for  her.  He  had  adorned  her  with  the  gems  of 
wealth,  but  she  must  not  live  in  selfish  indulgence  while 
the  wants  of  immortal  souls  were  pressing  upon  her, 
while  the  solemn  warning  "  Thou  must  give  an  account 
of  thy  stewardship"  was  ringing  in  her  soul. 

Never  before  had  she  made  an  elaborate  comparison 
between  the  white  and  the  black  man.  She  had  so 
often  heard  her  father  say  that  they  were  born  equal — 
equal  in  mind,  body,  and  soul,  having  only  the  accidental 
difference  of  colour  to  mark  them — that  she  had  believed 
it,  and  loathed  herself  for  the  feeling  of  superiority  over 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         333 

them  which  she  could  not  crush.  But  as  she  looked  at 
her  husband,  standing  in  their  midst,  the  representative 
of  the  fair  sons  of  Japheth,  wearing  on  his  brow  the  sig- 
net of  a  loftier,  nobler  destiny,  every  lineament  and 
feature  expressive  of  intellect  and  power,  and  then  at 
each  of  that  dark,  lowly  throng,  she  felt  a  conviction 
that  freedom,  in  its  broadest  latitude,  education,  with  its 
most  exalted  privileges,  could  never  make  them  equal 
to  him. 

Gradually  they  dispersed  to  their  several  cabins,  and 
Moreland  rejoined  his  wife. 

"To-morrow,  I  will  take  you  to  their  cabins,"  he  said. 
"They  are  all  anxious  to  see  their  young  mistress." 

"Why  not  now?" 

"You  are  too  weary." 

"No,  I  am  not.  I  have  been  watching  their  recep- 
tion of  you  with  such  interest !  Oh  !  my  husband  !  I 
never  dreamed  that  slavery  could  present  an  aspect  so 
tender  and  affectionate  !  What  a  kind,  indulgent  master 
you  must  be,  to  inspire  such  warm  attachment !  Ah ! 
I  fear  there  are  not  many  such !" 

"  Sceptic  in  all  goodness  but  mine  !  That  is  not  right, 
my  Eulalia.  I  must  not  be  complimented  at  the  e:» 
pense  of  my  brethren.  I  am  no  better,  perhaps  not  sA 
good  as  the  majority  of  masters,  as  you  will  find  out, 
after  having  dwelt  longer  at  the  South.  The  cruel  ones 
you  will  not  see,  as  we  have  no  fellowship  with  them. 
I  would  far  sooner  make  the  negro  my  social  companion 
156 


334  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

than  the  man  who  abuses  him.  Are  not  those  cotton 
fields  beautiful  ?  Do  you  see  the  white  blossoms  bloom- 
ing on  the  surface,  some  of  them  shaded  with  a  pale 
golden  tinge,  others  with  rose  colour,  while  the  snow- 
white  tufts  are  bursting  from  the  bolls  below?  Did 
you  ever  see  a  Northern  flower-garden  half  as  beautiful  ? 
Do  you  say  you  are  not  tired  ?  Let  us  go  then  to  some 
of  the  cabins.  I  acknowledge  I  am  impatient  to  intro- 
duce to  them  my  sweet  Northern  bride." 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  all  the  Aunt  Dilsys 
and  Dinahs  and  Venuses,  the  Patsys  and  Pollys,  the 
Uncle  Bills  and  Dicks  and  Jupiters  and  Vulcans — to 
whom  Moreland  presented  his  bashful,  blushing  wife. 
She  really  felt  more  trepidation  in  passing  this  ordeal 
than  she  would  in  attending  one  of  the  President's 
levees. 

He  carried  her  first  to  Aunt  Dilsy's  cabin,  she  being 
the  most  ancient  and  honourable  matron  of  the  establish- 
ment. There  Miss  Effie  was  sitting  on  a  little  piece  of 
carpet,  tossing  up  a  large,  scarlet  pomegranate,  with  her 
lap  full  of  all  kind  of  goodies.  Dilsy  was  not  as  old 
as  Dicey,  but  her  wool  was  profusely  sprinkled  with 
the  ashes  of  age,  and  time  had  made  many  a  groove  on 
Iier  face,  where  its  shadows  gathered.  The  locks  of  the 
white  man  grow  gray  as  life  wears  on,  but  the  negro's 
black  skin,  as  well  as  his  wool,  assumes  a  dim  and  hoary 
aspect,  as  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day  approaches. 

"Bless  you,  for  a  sweet  angel,  as  you  be!"  cried 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  335 

Dilsy,  "whose  salutation  was  a  sample  of  the  others,  and 
whose  dialect  Eulalia  at  once  observed  differed  from  the 
household  slaves  ; — "  bless  you,  young  missis,  and  make 
you  de  name  and  de  praise  of  many  generations,  dat 
luv  de  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I  didn't  'spec  to  see  young 
missus  'fore  I  die ;  but,  praise  de  Lord,  she  come, — and 
young  massa  look  so  happy.  Well !  he  desarves  it, 
de  Lord  knows.  I've  had  him  a  baby  in  dese  arms, 
and  his  moder  before  him.  I've  been  praying  my 
Hebenly  Massa  to  send  him  good  wife,  good  crishen 
wife,  to  be  his  'zilary  in  'nevolence  and  piety.  Now 
poor  Dilsy  willing  to  lay  down  and  neber  wake  up  no 
more." 

"  I  will  try  to  deserve  your  blessing,  and  be  a  kind 
and  faithful  mistress,"  answered  Eulalia,  with  unaffected 
humility,  the  tears  trembling  in  her  soft  dark  eyes,  while 
she  pressed  the  dry  and  wrinkled  hand  of  the  aged  negro. 
Dilsy  wept  like  a  child,  completely  melted  by  such  sweet- 
ness and  condescension,  and  really  believed  that  the 
Lord  had  sent  an  angel  among  them. 

CD  O 

In  one  of  the  cabins,  a  young,  bright-looking  negro 
girl  seemed  quite  beside  herself  with  rapture,  at  the 
sight  of  her  master's  lovely  young  bride.  She  gazed 
upon  her  with  distended  eyes,  showing  every  tooth  of 
dazzling  ivory,  then  threw  herself  on  the  floor,  and 
rolled  over  several  times,  shaking  with  convulsive* 
laughter. 


oob         THE  PLANTERS  NORTHERN ; BRIDE 

"What  is  the  matter  with  her?"  asked  Eulalia, 
timidly,  fearing  she  had  fallen  in  a  fit. 

"Oh!  you're  so  putty,  missus,"  said  the  girl,  sitting 
up  and  rubbing  her  eyes, — "you're  so  putty,  I  can't 
help  it.  Oh,  Luddy !  I  never  seed  any  ting  like  it, 
since  I  ben  born.  I  grate  big  fool,  I  know,  but  I  can't 
help  it." 

Here  she  burst  into  a  fresh  peal  of  laughter,  and 
covered  her  face  with  both  her  hands.  Moreland, 
laughing  at  this  hysterical  tribute  to  his  young  wife's 
beauty,  drew  her  away,  to  receive  now  testimonies  of 
the  personal  magnetism,  whose  drawings  he  had  felt 
when  the  choral  strains  first  thrilled  his  soul,  in  the 
village  church. 

Eulalia,  who  had  never  seen  the  negro  at  the  North, 
but  as  an  isolated  being,  beheld  him  now  in  his  domestic 
and  social  relations,  and,  it  seemed  to  her,  that  he  must 
be  a  great  deal  happier  thus  situated,  bearing  the  name 
of  a  slave,  than  wandering  about  a  nominal  freeman, 
without  the  genial  influences  of  home  and  friends.  She 
had  seen  the  Northern  labourer  return  after  a  day  of 
toil  to  the  bosom  of  his  family,  feeling  rest  more  grate- 
ful and  refreshing  because  it  was  enjoyed  there.  So  the 
negro  returned  to  his  cabin  and  sat  down  with  his  wife 
and  children,  and  smoked  his  pipe,  and  ate  his  supper, 
and  appeared  to  think  himself  very  comfortable.  But 
there  is  one  difference.  The  Northern  labourer  has 
anxious  thoughts  for  the  morrow,  fearg  that  the  daily 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  337 

bread  for  which  he  is  toiling  may  be  withheld,  that  sick- 
ness may  paralyze  his  strong  arm,  and  his  children  feel 
the  pangs  of  destitution.  The  slave  thinks  not  of  the 
morrow,  lays  up  nothing  for  the  future,  spends  his 
money  for  the  gratification  of  the  present  moment,  and 
gives  care  and  trouble  to  the  winds.  No  matter  how 
hard  he  has  been  at  work,  if  it  be  a  moonlight  night,  he 
steals  off  on  a  'possum  hunt,  or  a  fishing  frolic,  or  if  he 
hears  a  violin,  he  is  up  and  dancing  the  Virginia  break- 
down, or  the  Georgia  rattlesnake.  If  he  be  one  of  the 
"  settled  ones,"  to  use  one  of  their  favourite  expressions, 
he  may  be  heard  singing  the  songs  of  Zion,  in  that 
plaintive,  melodious  voice  peculiar  to  his  race. 

Do  the  spirits  of  the  labourers  in  Northern  factories 
ever  rebound  more  lightly  than  this,  after  laying  down 
the  burden  of  toil  ?  Do  the  two  hundred  thousand  poor 
that  throng  the  royal  streets  of  London  breathe  forth  a 
more  gladdening  strain,  or  lie  down  to  rest  with  more 
contentment  or  gratitude  ?  Do  the  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands buried  in  the  black  coal-pits  and  wretched  dens 
of  Great  Britain,  who  have  never  heard,  in  their  living 
graves,  of  the  God  who  created,  the  Saviour  who  re- 
deemed them,  pass  their  sunless  lives  in  greater  comfort 
or  fuller  enjoyment  ?  Are  Russia's  forty  millions  of 
slaves  more  free  from  care  and  sorrow  ?  Can  the  vic- 
tims of  Austrian  and  Prussian  despotism  boast  of  greater 
privileges  ?  Does  the  groan  of  oppression,  rising  above 
the  vine  hills  of  France,  speak  of  joys  more  dear  ?    Alasi  ! 


338  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

all  these  are  forgotten,  and  the  "  bolt,  red  with  uncom- 
mon wrath,"  is  hurled  at  the  devoted  South ;  as  if  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  were  basking  in  a  blaze  of  freedom, 
and  slavery,  condensed  into  the  blackness  of  darkness, 
dwelt  alone  with  her. 

"  Free  !  I  wonder  who  is  free  ?"  exclaimed  the  North- 
ern Betsy.  We  repeat  the  exclamation.  We  wonder 
who  is  really  free  in  this  great  prison-house  the  world. 
One  is  bound  to  the  Ixion  wheel  of  habit,  and  dare  not 
break  the  fetters  that  enthral  him ;  another  is  the  slave 
of  circumstances,  and  writhes  till  the  iron  enters  his 
soul.  Bigotry  stretches  one  on  its  Procrustes  bed, 
dragging  out  the  resisting  muscles  into  torturing  length, 
or  mangling  and  mutilating  the  godlike  proportions  the 
Almighty  has  made.  Fanaticism  hurls  another  into  an 
abyss  of  flame,  and  laughs  over  the  burning  agonies  she 
has  created.  Poverty  !  most  terrible  of  masters  !  We 
have  tried  already  to  depict  some  of  the  sufferings  of 
its  slaves.     Let  them  pass  here. 

Ask  that  pale,  majestic  statesman,  in  whose  travailing 
soul  and  toiling  brain  a  nation's  interests  are  wrought, 
who,  month  after  month,  is  doomed  to  exchange  the 
sweet  atmosphere  of  home  for  the  feverishness  and  strife 
of  a  political  arena,  whose  sleepless  nights  are  passed 
in  the  forge  of  intense  and  burning  thought,  and  whose 
days  in  gladiatorial  combats  with  warring  intellects, — if 
he  is  free ! 

Ask  him  who  sits  in  the  White  Palace,  chief  of  this 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        339 

great  republic,  filling  the  grandest  station  in  the  vast 
globe, — if  he  is  free  !  Are  you  free  ?  Are  we  ?  No  ! 
There  is  a  long  chain,  winding  round  the  whole  human 
race,  and  though  its  links  be  sometimes  made  of  silver 
and  gold,  nay,  even  twined  with  flowers,  it  is  still 
chain,  and  if  the  spirit  struggle  for  liberation,  it  will 
feel  the  galling  and  the  laceratKti,  as  much  as  if  the 
fetters  were  of  brass  or  iron.  For  six  thousand  years 
the  cry  for  freedom  has  been  going  up  from  the  goaded 
heart  of  humanity — freedom  from  the  bondage  and  mys- 
tery and  necessity  of  life — and  still  it  rends  the  heavens 
and  echoes  over  the  earth.  And  the  answer  has  been, 
and  now  is,  and  ever  will  be — "Be  still,  and  know  that 
I  am  God." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Eulalia  was  soon  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  plant- 
ation life.  With  ever-increasing  interest  she  studied 
the  scenes  around  her,  and  the  character  of  the  commu- 
nity of  whose  dark  circumference  she  was  made  the 
central  light.  Though  possessing  little  skill  or  experi- 
ence as  a  rider,  she  accompanied  her  husband  to  the 
bounds  of  his  dominions,  through  cotton  and  cornfields, 
all  along  the  beautiful  hedges  of  Cherokee  roses,  that, 
instead  of  fences,  divided  the  land.  At  first  she  only 
ventured  to  go  on  a  gentle  little  pony ;  but  soon,  embold- 
ened by  practice,  she  was  not  afraid  to  mount  the  most 
spirited  and  high-mettled  horse.  She  visited  the  saw- 
mill and  grist-mill,  built  on  the  margin  of  a  roaring 
stream ;  the  blacksmith's  shop,  that,  isolated  from  the 
other  buildings,  looked  as  if  it  were  cooling  its  fiery 
forge  in  the  fresh  green  expanse  that  surrounded  it,  and 
where  the  stalwart  artisan,  begrimed  by  nature,  heeded 
not  the  black  soot  that  settled  on  his  dusky  skin ;  the 
carpenter's  shop,  where  all  the  furniture  necessary  for 
*he  negroes  was  made,  even  to  "  a  right  sharp  bedstead 

340 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         841 

or  bureau,"  as  the  workman  told  her.  She  went  to  the 
weaving  and  spinning  rooms,  where  cotton  and  woollen 
webs  were  manufactured  for  negro  clothing,  and  counter- 
panes of  curious  devices.  Everything  necessary  for 
comfort  and  use  was  of  home-work,  and  everything  was 
done  with  a  neatness,  order,  and  despatch  that  surprised 
the  young  mistress  of  the  plantation.  The  cabins  of 
the  negroes,  each  with  their  own  well-cultivated  plot  of 
ground,  poultry  yard,  and  melon  patch,  she  loved  to 
visit,  for  wherever  she  turned  her  eye  she  saw  abundant 
proof  of  Moreland's  considerate  kindness  and  liberality. 
The  watchful  guardian  providence  of  the  whole  estab- 
lishment, he  seemed  to  see  and  command  everything  at 
a  single  glance.  The  overseer  was  required  to  give  an 
account  of  every  transaction  that  occurred  during  his 
absence,  and  his  presence  was  a  signal  for  justice  to 
ascend  its  throne,  ready  to  weigh  in  its  impartial  balance 
every  wrong  or  dubious  act — while  mercy  knelt  at  its 
footstool  pleading  for  the  delinquent  or  offender,  and 
softening  its  stern  decree. 

Eulalia  admired  the  systematic  arrangement  of  every- 
thing. The  hours  of  labour  were  all  regulated — the 
tasks  for  those  hours  appointed.  For  all  labour  beyond 
those  tasks  the  negroes  were  paid  an  adequate  remune- 
ration. Their  master  purchased  of  them  all  the  pro- 
duce, the  cotton  and  corn  they  had  the  privilege  of  rais- 
ing for  themselves,  giving  them  the  uttermost  farthing. 
Thus  they  had  an  ample  supply  of  spending  money — 


342  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

not  being  obliged  to  use  one  cent  of  it  for  the  neces- 
saries of  life.  One  evening  one  of  the  men  came  in 
and  asked  his  master  to  take  care  of  his  purse  till 
Christmas,  when  he  wanted  to  buy  something  fine  for 
his  wife.  It  was  nothing  but  an  old  woollen  mitten,  but 
the  contents  were  quite  respectable,  being  fifty-five 
dollars. 

"Have  you  earned  all  this,  Cato?"  asked  his  master. 
"  Sartain,  massa,  sartain — ebery  cent.     Hope  massa 
don't  think  I  steal  it !" 

"  Oh,  no,  Cato !  I  know  you  are  as  honest  as  you 
are  faithful  and  industrious.  I  must  treat  you  as  the 
Lord  in  Scripture  did  his  servant,  who  brought  him  his 
five  talents,  to  which  he  had  added  five  talents  more. 
I  must  give  you  your  own  with  usury." 

Taking  out  his  own  purse,  he  emptied  the  contents 
into  Eulalia's  hand,  reserving  a  half-eagle  which  he  left 
in  the  bottom.  Then  pouring  the  money  from  the  old 
mitten  into  it,  he  tossed  the  fragment  to  the  smiling 
negro. 

"  There,  Cato,  you  deserve  a  better  purse  than  that. 
You  may  make  a  present  of  it  to  your  wife." 

"Massa,  you  too  good!  Thank  you,  massa,  twenty 
times  over !  May  you  and  beautiful  young  missus  live 
a  tousand  years,  and  a  tousand  arter,  besides  !" 

"Pray,  don't  make  wandering  Jews  of  us,  Cato,  or  at 
least  save  us  from  eternal  old  age." 

Cato  .aughed  and  chuckled,  as  if  he  thought  it  an  ex- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        343 

cellent  joke  which  he  did  not  quite  understand,  and  went 
away  with  a  jubilant  spirit. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  this?"  said  Eulalia,  blush- 
in  gly   clasping  her  fingers  over  the  dripping  money. 

"Simple-hearted  child  !  buy  sugarplums  or  candy. 
How  can  you  ask  me  how  to  dispose  of  such  a  trifle  ?" 

"  Trifle  !  I  think  it  a  great  deal !  At  least,  it  is 
more  than  I  ever  had  the  disposal  of  before  !" 

Moreland  smiled  at  her  simplicity,  and,  clasping 
the  hand  which  contained  the  money  in  his  own,  ex- 
claimed— 

"All  that  I  have,  and  all  that  I  am,  is  thine,  my 
sweet  Eulalia.  Had  I  millions  on  millions,  they  should 
be  at  your  command.  Do  with  me  and  my  fortune  all 
that  your  pure  and  generous  heart  dictates.  Have  you 
no  wish,  my  wife,  that  wealth  can  gratify,  no  friend 
whom  your  bounty  can  bless  ?  Are  there  no  poor  in 
your  native  village,  whose  wants  were  forgotten  when 
you  left  them  ?  Would  you  not  like  to  send  some  kind 
memento  home?" 

"  I  would  like  them  to  know  how  blest,  how  happy  I 
am;  how  good,  how  noble  you  are!"  cried  Eulalia,  for 
the  first  time  throwing  her  timid  arms  round  his  neck ; 
then,  blushing  at  her  boldness,  would  have  withdrawn 
them,  but  he  imprisoned  them  in  his  own,  and  retained 
her  in  willing  bondage. 

"  There  is  a  poor  family,"  she  said,  falteringly,  still 
feeling  that  it  was   presumptuous  in  her  to  suggest  to 


344  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

him  objects  of  charity,  "whom  my  mother  mentioned  in 
her  last  letter,  as  having  suffered  much  from  protracted 
sickness.  I  thought,  when  I  read  of  their  distresses, 
how  sweet  it  would  he  to  relieve  them.  I  intend  d  to 
tell  you  of  their  wants,  but  you  gave  so  much  to  the 
poor  of  our  village,  I  was  ashamed  to  ask  for  more." 

"  Foolish,  foolish  Eulalia !  your  only  fault  is  too  great 
timidity,  too  much  self-distrust.  You  must  trust  me, 
or  I  shall  not  think  you  love  me.  You  must  feel  that  I 
live  for  your  happiness ;  that  your  slightest  wish  has 
the  authority  of  a  command — an  authority  second  only 
to  the  canons  of  God.  So  perfect  is  my  confidence  in 
your  purity  and  rectitude  of  principle,  that  I  would 
hesitate  as  soon  to  execute  the  commission  of  an  angel 
as  I  would  yours.  I  have  once  been  deceived,  and  I 
thought  all  confidence  was  wrenched  from  my  bosom, 
but  it  is  not  so.  My  trust  in  you  is  as  firm  as  that 
which  rests  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages." 

"  If  I  ever  prove  unworthy  of  that  trust,  may  I  for- 
feit the  favour  of  my  God !"  cried  Eulalia,  awed  by  the 
deep  tenderness  of  his  voice  and  manner,  and  lifting 
her  eyes  of  holy  innocence  to  heaven. 

"My  confidence  is  based  on  your  piety  and  truth, 
Eulalia,"  said  he,  after  a  pause,  in  which  his  mind  went 
back  to  the  past.  "  Your  unhappy  predecessor  was 
destitute  of  this  restraining  influence,  'and  became  the 
slave  of  her  own  wild  passions.  Born  of  an  Italian 
mother,  and  inheriting  from  her  a  warmth  and  vehe- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         845 

mence  of  character  that  nothing  but  religion  could 
control — but  why  do  I  speak  of  her  now  ! — why  recall 
her  at  this  moment,  sacred  to  joy  and  love !" 

"  There  is  one  favour  I  would  ask,"  said  Eulalia, 
when  the  tone  of  their  conversation  was  a  little  lowered ; 
she  was  growing  startlingly  bold,  it  seems,  in  consequence 
of  his  excessive  indulgence.  "  I  want  you  to  call  me 
Eula.  It  was  my  name  of  endearment  at  home.  It 
used  to  sound  so  sweet  from  the  lips  of  Dora.  I  love  it 
so  much  better  than  Eulalia." 

"Eula,  Eula !"  repeated  he;  "well,  henceforth  and 
evermore  be  it  Eula.  I  remember  the  first  time  I  heard 
that  name  breathed  by  Dora's  sweet  lips,  as  I  was  fol- 
lowing you  out  of  church.  I  wanted  to  catch  her  up  in 
my  arms  and  kiss  her,  for  teaching  my  heart  the  name 
it  was  throbbing  to  learn.  But  what  will  you  call  me  ? 
I  don't  believe  you  have  ever  addressed  me  by  name 
yet?" 

Eula,  as  she  resolved  to  be  called,  blushed  and  smiled. 
She  had  often  been  perplexed  how  to  address  him,  and 
was  glad  he  had  introduced  the  subject. 

"  Call  me  Russell,  as  Ildegerte  does.  It  makes  me 
feel  like  a  boy  to  be  called  by  my  Christian  name, — the 
name  I  received  at  the  baptismal  font." 

"  That  would  sound  too  familiar  for  me.  I  feel  too 
much  reverence  to  admit  of  it.  I  never  could  get 
accustomed  to  it." 

"  Anything  then,  but  Mr.  Moreland.  I  cannot  consent 


346  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

to  that.  What  a  pity  I  have  not  the  dignity  of  a  title  ; 
but,  rife  as  they  are  in  this  country,  I  am  neither  colo- 
nel, major,  or  general:   only  a  plain,  unhonourecl  man." 

"Moreland,  then!"  she  repeated,  in  a  low  voice, — 
"  that  name  is  music  to  my  ears." 

This  was  a  very  trifling  matter  to  arrange,  and  yet 
Eulalia  (we  will  try  to  get  into  the  habit  of  calling  her 
Eula,  thinking  with  her,  it  has  a  more  home-endearing 
sound,)  felt  a  little  happier  for  it.  It  was  one  more 
link  in  the  golden  chain  of  love  and  confidence,  wreathed 
round  her  heart. 

She  became  so  much  pleased  with  plantation  life, 
that,  whenever  her  husband  spoke  of  returning  to  town, 
she  entreated  him  to  remain,  saying,  she  could  do  so 
much  more  good  where  she  was.  The  injunction  of  her 
father,  to  be  a  missionary  to  the  poor  benighted  slaves, 
often  recurred  to  her ;  but  she  found  the  heralds  of  the 
gospel  had  preceded  her,  and  that  the  ground  on  which 
she  stood  was  consecrated  by  the  footsteps  of  Christi- 
anity. Moreland  had  erected  a  chapel  in  the  heart  of 
the  plantation,  and  though,  like  the  cabins,  it  was  con- 
structed of  logs,  and  the  seats  were  only  rustic  benches, 
it  was  hallowed  by  as  sincere  devotion  and  childlike 
faith  as  ever  filled  with  incense  the  heaven-dedicated 
dome.  No  proud,  intellectual  self-sufficiency, — no  cold, 
questioning  philosophy, —  no  God-defying  strength  of 
reason  impeded,  in  their  simple  minds,  the  reception  of 
evangelical  truths. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        347 

Moreland  paid  a  regular  salary  to  an  itinerant 
preacher  for  supplying  this  rustic  pulpit  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  there  was  a  black  preacher  besides,  who,  if  he 
had  not  the  learning,  emulated  the  zeal  of  St.  Paul. 
Eulalia  was  astonished  at  his  knowledge  of  Scripture, 
and  the  occasional  inspiration  of  his  language.  His 
name  was  Paul,  and  he  was  looked  up  to  with  as  much 
veneration  by  the  coloured  people  as  if  he  were  the 
great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  During  the  week  they 
had  prayer  meetings  at  night,  and  their  choral  voices 
uniting  in  hymns  of  praise  often  rose  in  the  stillness  of 
the  midnight  hour.  In  the  exercises  of  these  meetings 
Aunt  Dilsy  took  a  conspicuous  part.  She  was  regarded 
as  another  daughter  of  Phanuel,  who,  by  holy  fastings 
and  prayers,  had  become  completely  sanctified,  and  her 
exhortations  were  received  as  the  oracles  of  truth  and 
wisdom.  She  was  a  great  singer ;  and  though  her  once 
musical  voice  was  untuned  by  age,  no  one  was  thought 
to  sing  with  the  sperrit  as  Aunt  Dilsy  did,  or  to  shout 
hosannas  of  glory  with  such  thrilling  devotion. 

Eulalia  loved  to  witness  their  simple  religious  rites. 
Ofttimes,  when  she  and  her  husband  were  walking  out 
in  the  coolness  of  evening,  in  the  path  that  led  by  the 
chapel,  they  heard  their  names  as  good  massa  and 
missus  borne  on  the  wings  of  prayer  above  the  silent, 
listening  stars ;  and  they  felt  as  if  blessings  came  down 
upon  them  with  the  stilly  dews.  Sometimes  they  went  in 
and  united  in  spirit  with  the  dark  worshippers. ;  and  beau- 


848  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

tiful  was  the  contrast  of  Eulalia's  fair,  ethereal  face, 
with  the  black  visages  and  coarse  features  of  the  Afri- 
cans. And  sometimes,  moved  by  an  irresistible  impulse, 
she  suffered  her  seraphic  voice  to  mingle  with  theirs, 
and  it  had  a  tone  of  more  than  mortal  sweetness. 

One  night  she  missed  the  old  prophetess  Dilsy  in  the 
evening  assembly.  This  was  such  an  unusual  occurrence, 
she  begged  Moreland  to  accompany  her  to  her  cabin  and 
see  if  she  were  ill.  As  they  approached  the  door  they 
heard  low,  monotonous,  ejaculatory  sounds  issuing  from 
within.  They  recognised  the  accents  of  prayer,  and 
entered  reverently.  By  a  lamp  glimmering  on  the 
hearth  they  distinguished  the  figure  of  Aunt  Dilsy  on 
the  outside  of  the  bed,  looking  so  shrivelled  and  drawn 
up,  it  seemed  to  have  lost  half  of  its  usual  dimensions. 

"  Oh,  massa !  oh,  missus  !"  she  cried,  in  answer  to 
their  anxious  inquiries — "  I  struck  with  death  I  know ! 
Such  a  misery  in  my  breast !  'Pears  like  a  knife  in 
dare  !  Poor  old  creetur  ! — time  to  go ;  ben  long  time 
cumberer  of  de  ground !  Thank  de  Lord,  I'm  willing 
to  mind  his  blessed  summons !  I'm  ready,  'cause  he 
gin  me  de  white  wedding  garment  to  put  on,  arter  he 
wash  it  all  over  clean  in  his  'toning  blood  I" 

Here  a  violent  paroxysm  of  pain  interrupted  her 
utterance,  and  she  lay  panting  and  groaning,  and  her 
sunken  eyes  rolled  upward  with  such  an  expression  of 
mortal  agony  that  Eulalia  believed  her  soul  was  imme- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         349 

diately  departing.  Her  physical  sufferings  were  relieved 
by  some  specific  which  Moreland  applied,  so  that  she  was 
able  to  speak  once  more ;  but  it  was  evident  that  the 
hour  of  her  departure  was  arrived,  and  that  the  Son  of 
Man  was  come.  She  wanted  the  negroes  to  be  called 
in  to  receive  her  last  farewell,  and  they  were  summoned. 
They  stood  in  dark  circles,  one  behind  the  other,  gazing 
with  unspeakable  awe  on  the  dying  prophetess.  Drawn 
by  the  mysterious  and  awful  fascination  of  death,  they 
pressed  nearer  and  nearer,  till  Moreland  was  compelled 
to  wave  them  back,  lest  every  breath  of  air  should  be 
excluded  from  the  expiring  woman. 

"Let  'em  come,  massa,"  she  said,  with  a  beckoning 
motion.  "  Can't  hurt  me  now.  Oh  !  brudders  and  sis- 
ters in  de  Lord  Jesus !  I  most  got  home.  I  see  de 
golden  streets  way  up  yonder.  I  see  de  grate  house 
not  made  by  hands,  wid  de  door  wide  open,  ready  to  let 
poor  ole  sinner  in.  Somebody,  all  shining  like  de  sun, 
stand  right  in  de  door  and  say : — '  Come  in,  Dilsy ! 
Set  down  at  de  right  hand  of  de  Lord.'  " 

The  most  ecstatic  expression  it  is  possible  to  conceive 
lighted  up  her  poor  withered  features.  It  seemed  that 
a  vision  of  glory,  such  as  is  never  vouchsafed  to  any  but 
the  dying,  was  sweeping  down  upon  her,  wrapping  her 
soul  in  folding  sheets  of  splendour  and  bliss.  Inexpres- 
sibly awed,  Eulalia  knelt  by  her  bedside,  clasping  the 

hand  of  her  husband,  who  stood  reverently  gazing  on 
157 


350  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  aged  negress,  who,  through  nearly  three  generations, 
had  been  the  faithful  servant  and  humble  friend  of  his 
family.  Her  children  and  her  children's  children  were 
gathered  round  her ;  but  as  the  vision  gradually  faded 
away,  and  her  clouding  eye  turned  wistfully  to  earthly 
objects,  it  was  on  the  face  of  her  master  she  gazed,  with 
such  an  expression  of  affection,  gratitude,  and  humility 
combined,  that  his  answering  glance  was  dimmed  with 
tears. 

"  Good  by,  massa  !"  she  cried,  fumbling  with  the  bed- 
cover, thinking  it  was  his  hand  she  was  grasping.  Per- 
ceiving her  motion,  he  took  hers  in  his.  It  was  damp 
and  cold  as  ice. 

"  Good  by,  massa !  my  Hebenly  Massa  has  bought 
me  wid  his  own  precious  blood,  and  he  say  I  must  leave 
you.  You  ben  good,  kind  massa.  I'll  tell  the  Lord 
when  I  git  home  to  glory,  all  you've  done  for  de  soul 
and  body  of  poor  nigger.  Oh  !  massa  !  'spose  you  don't 
know  poor  Dilsy  when  you  git  to  heben,  'cause  she'll  be 
beautiful,  white  angel  den ;  but  you  jist  look  hard  at  de 
hebenly  throng,  and  de  one  dat  lub  you  best  of  all,  wid 
her  new  eyes — dat  will  be  me." 

"Dilsy,"  said  her  master,  in  a  voice  husky  from  emo- 
tion, "you  have  been  a  good  and  faithful  friend  to  me 
and  mine.  You  are  going  to  receive  the  reward  of 
your  fidelity.  You  will  hear  the  voice  of  God  pronounce 
the  glad  sentence :  '  Come,  thou  good  and  faithful  ser- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE         351 

vant,  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord.'  If  I  am 
ever  admitted  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  I  expect  to 
meet  and  recognise  you  as  an  angel  of  light." 

Amid  the  loud  sobs  that  burst  forth  from  the  circling 
negroes,  there  went  up  a  shout  of  "glory ;"  and  several 
voices  echoed  it  till  the  hosannas  seemed  too  swelling 
for  that  little  cabin.  The  sinking  faculties  of  life 
gathered  new  energy  from  the  jubilant  sounds. 

"Yes  !  brudders  and  sisters  !"  she  cried,  clapping 
her  cold,  feeble  hands,  "rejoice  that  ye  eber  hearn  of 
de  Lord  Jesus  and  de  blessed  herarter.  If  we'd  all 
staid  in  de  heathen  land,  where  all  de  black  folks  come 
from,  we'd  neber  known  noting  'bout  heben,  noting  'bout 
de  hebenly  'deemer  or  de  golden  streets  of  de  new  Jeru- 
salem. Tink  of  dat,  if  Satin  eber  tempt  you  to  leave 
good  massa  and  missus." 

Looking  at  the  weeping  Eulalia,  she  said — 

"Please,  young  missus,  sing  one  of  de  songs  of  Zion. 
'Pears  like  I'll  go  to  glory  on  it.  Someting  'bout  Je- 
sus and  de  Lamb." 

Eulalia  felt  as  if  she  had  little  voice  to  sing,  but  she 
could  not  refuse  the  last  request  of  the  departing  Chris- 
tian. Low  and  trembling  she  began,  but  the  notes 
grew  clearer  and  sweeter  as  she  continued ;  sometimes 
low  and  soft,  as  if  they  came  murmuring  from  the  depths 
of  ocean,  then  swelling  in  volume,  they  seemed  to  be 
rolling  from  the  bosom  of  a  cloud. 


O0l2  THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

These  were  the  words  she  sang, — 

"Jesus!  lover  of  my  soul 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll, — 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high. 
Hide  me,  oh!  my  Saviour,  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past, 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 

Oh !  receive  my  soul  at  last." 

She  paused,  but  the  half-closed  eyes  opened,  and  the 
gasping  breath  whispered  "More,  dear  missus,  more  !" 
Again  she  sang, — 

"  Other  refuge  have  I  none ; 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee ; 
Leave,  oh !  leave  me  not  alone 

Still  support  and  comfort  me. 
All  my  trust  in  thee  is  staid, — 

All  my  help  from  thee  I  bring ; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  thy  wing." 

As  the  last  lines  died  on  the  ear,  the  shadow  of  the 
mighty  wing  of  the  death-angel  visibly  darkened  the 
brow  of  the  departing  negress.  There  was  an  awful 
hush,  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  an  eager  pressing 
forward,  as  if  the  eye  could  behold,  in  the  rifted  clay, 
where  the  struggling  soul  had  rent  its  passage  to  eternity. 
Moreland  drew  Eulalia  from  the  cabin,  assuring  her  that 
every  respect  would  be  paid  to  the  remains  of  the  now 
enfranchised  Dilsy. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        353 

All  night  the  negroes  watched  by  her  body,  singing, 
in  choral  strains,  of  the  triumph  of  redeeming  love. 
They  even  added  another  verse  to  the  immemorial 
hymn  of  good  old  Daniel,  enrolling  Dilsy  among  the 
immortal  worthies  who  have  entered  the  promised 
land, — 

"Where  now  is  good  old  Dilsy  ? 
Where  now  is  good  old  Dilsy  ? 
Where  now  is  good  old  Dilsy  ? 
Safely  in  de  promised  land. 
She  went  up  from  de  bed  o'er  yonder, 
She  went  up  from  de  bed  o'er  yonder, 
She  went  up  from  de  bed  o'er  yonder, 
Safely  in  de  promised  land. 

The  next  day,  a  little  before  sunset,  Dilsy  was  laid  in 
the  green  enclosure  where  some  of  her  children  already 
slept.  It  was  the  burying-ground  of  the  plantation,  sur- 
rounded by  a  neat,  whitewashed  paling,  and  shaded  by 
evergreens  and  shrubbery.  On  some  graves,  flowers  were 
growing,  showing  that  the  taste  which  loves  to  beautify 
the  places  of  death  is  sometimes  found  in  the  bosom  of 
the  African.  A  long  procession  followed  the  body  of 
the  ancient  matron,  headed  by  the  master  whom  she 
had  loved  in  life,  and  blessed  in  death.  He  walked 
before  them  all,  with  folded  arms  and  measured  tread — 
stood,  with  uncovered  head,  while  they  lowered  the  coffin 
into  the  deep,  dark,  narrow  cavity  scooped  to  receive  it; 
threw  the  first  shovelful  of  earth  on  the  hollow-sounding 


354  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

lid,  and  waited  till  the  cold  abyss  was  filled,  and  the 
damp  clay  heaved  above  it. 

"Oh,  God!"  he  silently  ejaculated,  lifting  his  eyes 
heavenward,  "  I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty  to  this  poor- 
dust  committed  to  my  care.  I  received  it,  as  a  part  of 
my  inheritance,  as  a  trust  for  which  I  shall  be  respon- 
sible to  thee,  and  thee  alone.  If  I  have  failed,  thou 
great  Searcher  of  all  human  hearts,  forgive  me !  and 
show  me  wherein  my  error  lies.  Here,  by  this  solemn 
new-made  grave,  I  renew  the  dedication  of  my  soul  to 
thy  service,  and  the  good  of  my  fellow-beings." 

Then,  turning  to  the  negroes  who  stood  leaning  on 
their  shovels,  looking  down  mournfully  on  the  hillock 
they  had  made,  he  said — 

"  You  heard  the  words  of  the  dying  Dilsy.  You  heard 
what  she  said  to  you  and  to  me.  She  told  you  to  be 
grateful  that  you  were  brought  away  from  a  land  of 
darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death,  to  regions  where  the 
light  of  the  gospel  shines  upon  your  souls,  where  you 
are  taught  that  the  grave  is  a  passage  to  glory  and  hap- 
piness, where  you  are  prepared  to  meet,  in  faith  and 
hope,  the  dark  hour  through  which  she  has  just  safely 
passed.  Did  you  believe  her  words  ?  Do  you  think  she 
would  deceive  you,  when  her  gasping  breath  was  about 
leaving  her  body  ?" 

"No,  massa !"  answered  Paul,  the  preacher;  "sar- 
tain  she  wouldn't !     We  know  she  spoke  the  truth." 

"Then  you  would  not  think  freedom  without  a  God, 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  355 

freedom  without  a  Saviour,  without  hope  of  a  hereafter, 
without  the  promises  of  eternal  life,  a  blessing?" 

"No,  massa !  not  a  bit,  not  a  bit." 

"  Would  you  think  freedom  a  blessing,  if  I  should 
scatter  you  all  at  this  moment  to  the  four  winds  of  hea- 
ven, give  up  all  care  and  guardianship  of  you  and  your 
children,  suffer  you  to  go  where  you  please,  leaving  you 
to  provide  for  the  necessities  of  the  morrow  and  all 
future  wants  ?"* 

"No,  massa,  no!"  burst  forth  simultaneously  from 
the  funeral  band. 

"You  heard,"  added  Moreland,  with  solemnity,  "her 
dying  blessing  upon  your  master.  You  heard  what  she 
said  she  would  repeat  before  God  and  his  angels.  Do 
you  believe  her  words  were  true  ?  Have  I  been  kind 
and  just  to  all  ?  Or  do  you  look  on  me  as  a  tyrant, 
from  whose  dominion  you  long  to  be  free  ?" 

Here  the  denial  was  still  more  earnest  and  emphatic. 
Te^vs  were  streaming  down  the  cheeks  of  those  around 
>he  grave,  and  sobs  were  heard  in  the  back-ground. 

"Then,"  said  Moreland,  "let  us  make  a  new  covenant 
together,  and  let  this  grave  be  a  witness  between  us  all, 

*  A  free  negro,  who  resides  at  St.  Andrew's  Bay,  had  amasse 
money  enough  to  build  him  a  comfortable  house.  He  supporte 
himself  and  family  by  boat-building.  In  one  of  those  storms  which 
often  desolate  the  coast,  his  house  was  swept  away.  He  came  to 
many  gentlemen,  entreating  them  to  purchase  himself  and  family. 
Baying  he  was  tired  of  the  responsibility  of  their  support.  He  had 
known  what  slavery  and  freedom  were,  and  he  preferred  the  first. 


356  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

that  we  do  it  in  sincerity  and  truth.  I  call  upon  you 
all  to  renew  your  promises  of  fidelity  and  obedience. 
I  pledge  myself  anew  to  watch  over  your  best  interests 
for  time  and  eternity.  If  I  ever  forget  my  vow,  if  I 
ever  become  unjust,  unkind,  or  tyrannical,  you  may  lead 
me  to  this  clay-cold  bed  and  remind  me  of  my  broken 
faith.  And  now,  Paul,"  turning  to  the  weeping 
preacher,  whose  sensibilities  were  all  melting  and  flowing 
from  his  eyes,  "let  us  all  kneel  together,  while  you  con- 
secrate this  burial  spot  by  the  breath  of  prayer." 

Just  as  the  last  words  of  Paul's  devout  and  eloquent 
prayer,  the  ascription  of  praise  and  thanksgiving,  was 
uttered,  the  setting  sun,  which  had  been  curtained  by  a 
cloud  parallel  with  the  horizon,  so  that  all  thought  the 
twilight  was  begun,  suddenly  gleamed  forth,  sending  out 
innumerable  radii  of  crimson  and  gold,  from  its  red  and 
glowing  disk.  It  gilded  the  pale  and  earnest  counte- 
nance of  Moreland  with  a  kind  of  supernatural  radiance, 
bronzed  the  crisped  wool  and  black  glossy  skin  of  the 
negroes,  and  gave  a  tinge  of  ruddiness  to  the  cedar's 
dark  green  foliage.  Was  it  a  token  from  heaven  ?  Was 
it  fire  from  above  descending  on  the  altar  of  the  heart, 
showing  that  the  sacrifice  was  accepted  ?  So  thought 
Paul,  the  preacher.  So  thought  all  the  Africans ;  and 
they  were  as  sure,  ever  afterwards,  that  Dilsy  was  in 
glory,  as  if  they  had  seen  her  with  victorious  palms  in 
her  right  hand  and  a  golden  lyre  in  her  left. 

It  was  not  till  several  weeks  afterwards   that   her 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIBE.         357 

"funeral  was  preached,"  as  the  negroes  say,  and  then 
the  slaves  from  adjoining  plantations  came  to  do  honour 
to  the  memory  of  this  sable  mother  in  Israel.  It  was 
some  time  before  the  solemnity  caused  by  her  death 
passed  away.  No  music  was  heard  at  night  but  choral 
hymns ;  and  the  step  of  the  dancer  was  still.  But  the 
banjo's  monotonous  thrumming  at  length  was  heard, 
rather  faintly  at  first,  then  giving  out  a  bolder  strain, 
and  then  the  violin's  melodious  scraping  called  out  the 
little  darkies  from  their  nooks  and  crannies  to  jump 
Greorgia  motion  with  their  India-rubber  toes. 

It  was  with  reluctance  that  Eulalia  left  the  planta- 
tion. All  her  fears  and  repugnance  of  the  black  race 
were  gone,  leaving,  in  their  stead,  the  sincerest  attach- 
ment and  the  deepest  interest.  She  wrote  to  her 
parents  the  most  enthusiastic  description  of  the  life  she 
had  witnessed ;  and,  while  she  made  her  mother  the 
almoner  of  her  husband's  bounty  to  the  poor,  dwelt 
upon  all  his  excellent  and  noble  qualities  with  fond  and 
eloquent  diffuseness.  "  Happy ! — do  you  ask  if  I  am 
happy?"  she  added.  "I  tremble  at  the  excess  of  my 
felicity,  knowing  that  it  cannot  be  always  thus.  On 
the  blue  and  cloudless  firmament  I  watch  for  the  rising 
cloud." 

Poor  Eulalia  ! — the  cloud  was  near  at  hand.  A  letter 
from  Dr.  Darley  was  awaiting  their  return,  involving 
the  necessity  of  Moreland's  immediate  departure.  It 
was  written  after  the  death  of  Richard,  and  the  abduc- 


S58  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

tion  of  Crissy,  while  Ildegerte  was  languishing  on  a 
sick-bed.  The  moment  the  letter  was  given  into  his 
hands,  Eulalia  knew  that  it  was  the  messenger  of  sad 
tidings,  for  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  black  seal ;  but 
she  did  not  anticipate  the  extent  of  Ildegerte's  sorrow. 
She  watched  her  husband's  countenance  as  he  read.  At 
first  it  was  sad,  very  mournful,  but  gently  so.  The 
grief  that  shaded  it  was  of  that  nature  which  sympathy 
might  soothe,  and  she  drew  near,  that  he  might  feel  her 
readiness  to  participate  in  all  his  sorrows,  and  laid  her 
hand,  with  soft,  unobtrusive  motion,  on  his  shoulder ; 
when  suddenly  starting  up,  shaking  it  unconsciously 
from  his  arm,  he  knit  his  brows  fiercely,  while  angry 
lightning  flashed  from  his  eyes. 

"Mean,  cowardly,  cruel!"  he  exclaimed,  clenching 
the  letter  with  such  force  that  he  shivered  and  rent  it  in 
his  grasp.  "  When  God  afflicts,  it  is  easy  to  submit ; 
but  when  the  blow  comes  from  man, — comes  in  the  dark, 
with  the  cruelty  of  an  assassin,  and  the  baseness  of  a 
robber, — by  Heaven,  it  is  hard  to  bear  !" 

Eulalia  trembled  and  turned  pale.  She  had  never 
before  seen  her  husband  angry,  and  there  was  some- 
thing terrible  in  the  wrath  of  that  usually  serene  and 
beaming  countenance.  She  dared  not  question  him, 
save  with  her  beseeching  eyes.  Crushing,  as  it  were, 
his  vehement  emotion  as  suddenly  as  he  had  done  the 
letter,  he  said,  in  a  more  subdued  but  still  indignant 
tone, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         S59 

"  Forgive  my  violence ;  I  did  not  mean  to  alarm  you. 
Richard  is  dead  ! — God  took  him, — it  is  well.  Crissy  is 
gone  ! — lured  from  her  mistress,  in  the  hour  of  her  bit- 
terest agony, — miserable  dupe  that  she  is  !  Let  her  go, 
■ — let  her  go!  But  Ildegerte  lies  on  a  sick-bed, —  no 
friend  but  Dr.  Darley  by  her.  Eulalia, — Eula,  I  must 
go  to  her.  I  must  leave  you  for  a  while.  You  would 
not  wish  me  to  stay." 

"Oh,  no!"  she  exclaimed,  bursting  into  tears,  "she 
needs  you  more  than  I.  Alone  among  strangers  ;  with 
a  broken  heart ! — how  sad !  How  could  Crissy  leave 
her,  when  she  seemed  to  love  her  so  dearly,  and  pro- 
mised so  faithfully  to  abide  by  her  !" 

"Blame  not  her,"  said  Moreland;  "poor,  ignorant, 
deluded  creature  !  She  was  probably  assailed  by  arts 
which  her  simplicity  was  powerless  to  baffle.  I  feel  only 
pity  for  her.  But  for  those  who  inflicted  this  wrong  on 
my  unoffending  sister,  whose  situation  should  have 
inspired  the  deepest  sympathy  and  commiseration,  I 
have  no  words  to  express  my  indignation.  Give  me  the 
foe  that  braves  me  face  to  face  in  the  blaze  of  noonday ; 
but  shame  on  the  coward  who  skulks  in  ambush,  with 
the  smiling  lip  and  the  assassin  hand  !  Had  they  broken 
into  Ildegerte's  room,  rifled  her  of  her  gold  and  her  rai- 
ment, the  act  would  have  been  less  unprincipled,  for  her 
heart  would  not  have  suffered.  They  have  stolen  from 
her  a  friend,  in  the  hour  of  her  extremest  need,  and 
added  dreariness  and  anguish  to  the  desolation  of  widow- 


?>m 


THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 


hood!  Great  God!  what  will  the  end  of  these  things 
be  !  What  will  he  the  end  of  unprovoked  attack,  injus- 
tice, and  aggression  on  one  side,  and  exasperated  feeling, 
wounded  honour,  and  disregarded  brotherhood  on  the 
t  oilier  !  Oh  !  my  wife  !  nry  dear  wife  !  if  it  were  not  for 
thee,  I  would  rather  rend  asunder,  with  one  mighty 
effort,  the  ties  which  bind  the  South  and  the  North,  than 
live  with  this  burning  under-current  accumulating 
strength  from  a  thousand  sources,  and  undermining  our 
institutions,  our  prosperity  and  happiness  !  Perish  the 
body,  if  the  spirit  be  wanting  there  !  Madness  to  talk 
of  union,  with  bitterness  and  rancour  and  every  evil 
passion  rankling  in  the  heart's  core  !" 

Moreland  was  excited  beyond  the  power  of  self-con- 
trol. "What  could  Eulalia  say  ?  Was  not  her  own  father 
a  leader  in  the  party  whose  influence  he  deprecated  with 
such  indignant  vehemence  ?  But  every  thought  was 
soon  swallowed  in  the  idea  of  approaching  separation. 
He  was  to  leave  her  on  the  morrow,  to  be  gone  she  knew 
not  how  long ;  he  was  going  on  a  sad  errand — to  bring 
back  a  widowed  sister,  accompanied  by  the  lifeless  body 
of  her  husband.  In  the  contemplation  of  Ildegerte's 
sorrows  she  tried  to  forget  her  own ;  but  she  felt  that 
absence  was  the  shadow  of  death,  and  it  hung  dark  and 
chill  over  her  soul. 

Moreland  was  anxious  that  she  should  invite  some 
female  companion  to  cheer  her  solitude,  but  she  shrunk 
from   the   suggestion.      She   would   a   thousand   times 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         361 

rather  be  alone,  or  with  no  companion  but  little  Effie, 
who  was  becoming  every  hour  more  dear  to  her  affec- 
tions. In  instructing  Effie's  heart,  and  through  her 
heart  finding  the  avenue  to  her  understanding ;  in  her 
music  lessons,  books,  letters ;  the  care  of  her  servants, 
Yhe  superintendence  of  her  household,  she  would  pass 
the  dreary  hours  of  absence  and  wait  his  return. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  took  his  departure.  Eulalia 
did  not  stand  under  the  blossoming  wreaths  of  the  now 
fading  honeysuckle  to  witness  his  going,  as  she  had  done 
once  before.  Her  face  was  buried  in  the  window  cur- 
tain of  her  chamber.  She  had  not  the  courage  to  look 
upon  his  departing  figure.  Just  as  he  was  leaving  the 
gate,  poor  Jim  detained  him  to  repeat  once  more  the 
injunction  not  to  come  back  without  Crissy.  He  seemed 
quite  broken-hearted  by  her  desertion,  and  could  not 
speak  of  her  without  tears.  There  was  no  place  for 
resentment  in  his  soft,  uxorious  heart. 

"  Tell  her,  massa,  I  done  forgive  her.  'Tain't  none 
of  her  doings,  no  how ;  but  her  things  will  spile  sure  as 
she  be  alive.  Tell  her  I  got  no  heart  to  air  'em  no 
more.     Don't  care  if  they  drop  to  pieces !" 

Notwithstanding  this  assertion,  Jim  pored  over  the 
contents  of  the  big  chest  with  increasing  devotion,  and 
early  .on  many  a  bright  sunny  morning  a  long  line  of 
parti-coloured  garments  rejoiced  in  the  freshening 
breeze. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

A  very  unexpected  visiter  interrupted  the  monotony 
of  Eulalia's  life,  during  the  absence  of  Moreland. 

She  was  sitting  one  morning  alone,  in  the  parlour, 
practising  her  last  music  lesson  with  all  the  assiduity  of 
a  school-girl,  wishing  to  surprise  her  husband  with  her 
proficiency,  on  his  return,  when  the  door  opened  and  a 
lady  entered,  unannounced.  The  music  drowned  the 
sound  of  her  entrance,  and  Eulalia's  first  consciousness 
of  her  presence  was  so  startling  that  it  made  her  spring 
from  her  seat,  as  if  penetrated  by  an  electric  shock. 
She  heard  no  step,  and  yet,  an  inexplicable  sensation 
induced  her  to  turn,  and  close  to  the  instrument  she  be- 
held the  haughty,  yet  graceful  figure,  whose  lineaments, 
once  seen,  could  never  be  forgotten.  There  were  the 
large,  black,  resplendent,  yet  repelling  eyes,  that  were 
for  ever  haunting  her, — the  red  lips  of  scorn,  the  pale 
olive  cheek,  the  bold,  yet  classic  brow — all  the  features 
daguerreotyped  on  her  memory. 

They  stood  for  several  moments  without  speaking, 
gazing  at  each  o^ber, — the  repudiated  wife  and  North- 

362 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         dOd 

ern  bride  of  Moreland, — two  of  the  most  striking  images 
that  womanhood  can  present,  of  material  beauty  and 
spiritual  loveliness.  They  were  both  young,  both  beau- 
tiful, but  evil  passions  had  darkened  and  marred  the 
brilliant  face  of  the  one,  while  purity,  goodness,  truth, 
and  love  had  imparted  to  the  other  an  almost  celestial 
charm. 

"And  you  are  now  mistress  here  !"  exclaimed  the 
lady,  sweeping  her  proud,  bright  glance  round  the 
apartment,  her  lip  curling  and  quivering  with  undefinable 
emotion. 

"I  am,"  replied  Eulalia,  her  self-possession  returning 
as  the  voice  of  the  stranger  broke  the  spell  which  seemed 
thrown  around  them  both.  Her  tone  was  cold  and  un- 
natural. She  paused,  as  if  waiting  an  explanation  of 
this  unexpected  and  unwelcome  visit.  Then,  her  native 
courtesy  and  gentleness,  mingled  with  compassion  for 
the  unhappy  woman  before  her,  induced  her  to  add — 

"Will  you  be  seated,  madam?" 

Claudia  threw  herself  on  a  sofa,  in  an  attitude  of 
careless  independence.  The  crimson  velvet  of  the  co- 
vering brought  out,  in  strong  relief,  the  handsome,  but 
bold  outlines  of  her  figure,  which  swelled  through  the 
dark  mistiness  of  a  black  lace  drapery.  She  sat,  wrap- 
ping this  drapery  round  her  exquisitely  white  hands,  all 
glittering  with  rings,  then,  suddenly  untying  the  strings 
of  her  bonnet,  she  tossed  it  down  by  her  side,  and  shook 
her  raven  black  hair  back  from  her  brow.     Her  air  of 


861  the  planter's  northern  bride, 

proud  assurance,  the  careless  home-attitude  she  assumed, 
as  if  she  had  come  to  dispossess  the  sweet  young  crea- 
ture before  her  of  the  throne  she  deemed  still  her  right 
to  occupy,  roused  all  the  woman  in  Eulalia's  breast. 
The  colour  came  warm  and  bright  to  her  cheek  and 
brow. 

"  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  a  call  as  unlooked  for  as 
andesirecl?"  she  asked  with  dignity,  without  resuming 
ner  seat. 

"To  any  motive  you  please,"  replied  the  lady,  with  a 
deriding  smile.  "I  presume  I  am  not  the  first  lady 
jvho  has  called  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  new  Mrs. 
Moreland.  Is  it  a  Northern  custom  to  ask  one's  guests 
the  reason  of  their  coming,  the  very  moment  of  their 
arrival,  too?" 

"At  the  North,  as  well  as  the  South,"  said  Eulalia, 
her  mild  eyes  flashing  with  unwonted  fire,  "the  woman 
who  has  forfeited  her  position  as  a  wife  and  mother  is 
excluded  from  the  social  privileges  she  has  wantonly 
abused.  She  may  be  an  object  of  charity,  pity,  kind- 
ness ;  but  of  friendship  and  esteem,  never !" 

"Do  you  dare  say  this  to  me?"  exclaimed  Claudia, 
starting  to  her  feet,  with  a  look  that  threatened  anni- 
hilation. 

"Yes,  madam,  and  far  more!"  cried  Eulalia,  embold- 
ened to  candour  by  the  insolence  of  her  visiter. 
"Were  you  m  want,  I  would  most  willingly  relieve 
you ;  were  you  in  suffering,  either  in  body  or  mind,  I 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        365 

would  gladly  administer  succour  and  consolation ;  were 
you  bowed  down  by  remorse  and  sorrow,  I  would  kneel 
at  your  side,  praying  the  Saviour  of  sinners  to  have 
mercy  on  your  soul !  But  when  you  come  with  haughty 
defiance,  glorying  in  your  shame,  to  the  home  you  once 
desecrated,  placing  yourself  on  an  equality  with  the 
virtuous  and  pure,  I  am  constrained  to  say,  that  your 
presence  is  unwelcome  and  intrusive." 

Grave,  serene,  and  holy,  in  her  youthful  purity  and 
sanctity,  stood  Eulalia,  before  her  predecessor,  as  stood 
the  angel  before  transgressing  Eve. 

"And  you  believe  his  story!"  exclaimed  Claudia, 
bursting  into  a  scornful  laugh.  "You  believe  I  am 
really  the  vile  thing  he  represents  me  to  be.  Yes  ! — lie 
believes  it,  too.  I  wanted  him  to.  I  would  not  unde- 
ceive him.  I  trampled  him  in  the  dust  of  humiliation, 
— willing  to  endure  obloquy  and  disgrace  myself,  since 
shame  and  dishonour  rested  on  him  !" 

"  Impossible  ! — impossible  !"  cried  Eulalia ;  "  woman 
never  sunk  so  low  !" 

She  recoiled  from  her,  as  if  she  were  a  serpent  or  a 
demon.     Could  it  be,  that  the  man  whom  she  so  idola- 
trously  loved,  had  inspired  such  bitter  hatred  and  re 
venge  ! 

"Yes!"  continued  Claudia, — walking  backwards  and 

forwards,  with  the  fierce  grace  of  a  leopardess, — "  I 

hated  him  so  intensely,  that  I  was  willing  to  destroy 

myself,  provided  I  involved  him  in  ruin.     I  was  fool 

158 


366  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

enough  to  think  I  loved  him  when  I  married.  Yes,  I 
was  the  fool  then  you  are  now !  I  thought  I  married 
a  lover !  he  turned  into  my  master,  my  tyrant ! — he 
wanted  me  to  cringe  to  his  will,  like  the  slaves  in  the 
kitchen,  and  I  spurned  his  authority! — I  defied  his 
power  !  He  expected  me  to  obey  him, — me,  who  never 
obeyed  my  own  mother  !  He  refused  me  the  liberty  of 
choosing  my  own  friends,  of  receiving  them  in  my  own 
house  !  He  even  had  the  audacity  to  command  me  to 
shut  the  doors  upon  my  mother's  face  !  Did  he  tell  you 
of  that?     If  he  did  not,  I  do !" 

She  paused  for  breath,  panting  from  angry  excite- 
ment. Eulalia  beheld  a  faint  specimen  of  that  irascible 
and  indomitable  temper  which,  resisting  every  moral  and 
religious  influence,  had  made  its  wretched  possessor  an 
alien  and  an  outcast. 

"He  did  tell  me.  Shall  I  repeat  the  cause?"  said 
Eulalia. 

"No!  I  will  not  hear  it;  it  is  slander, — the  vilest 
slander!  Because  my  mother  was  a  foreigner,  they 
accused  her  of  all  that  was  evil,  and  forbid  me  to  asso- 
ciate with  her.  But,  I  can  tell  you,  the  spirit  of  the 
Italian  is  resilient,  and  will  not  be  held  down.  You ! — 
he  daughter  of  a  Northern  clime,  without  impulse  or 
passion,  cold  as  your  wintry  snows, — may  wear  the  yoke 
without  feeling  it,  and  yield  the  will  without  knowing  it. 
You  are  wondrously  happy,  are  you  not  ?" 

Eulalia  felt  a  quick,  sharp  pang  at  her  heart,  at  the 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  BRIDE         -367 

sudden  storm  of  passion  rising  and  surging  within.  She 
knew  not  before  that  such  powerful  elements  were  slum- 
bering in  her  breast.  At  every  scornful  and  mocking 
word,  dashed,  as  it  were,  in  her  face,  answering  scorn 
sent  its  flash  to  her  eye  and  its  bitter  taunt  to  her  lip. 
But  the  flash  went  out,  the  taunt  died  away  without 
utterance.  The  angel  of  consideration  did  not  forsake 
her,  but  she  could  have  wept  at  the  introspective  view 
that  moment  of  passion  had  given  her.  Without  trust- 
ing herself  to  speak,  fearing  she  would  say  something 
which  she  would  hereafter  regret,  she  turned  away,  won- 
dering how  this  strange  and  harrowing  scene  would 
terminate. 

Claudia  made  no  movement  of  departure.  She  was 
restless,  nervous,  constantly  looking  towards  the  door, 
sometimes  walking  with  impatient  gesture,  then  throwing 
herself  back  on  the  sofa,  and  squeezing  the  crimson 
cushion  with  clenching  fingers.  Once  she  sat  down  at 
the  piano,  and  running  her  fingers  over  the  keys,  pro- 
duced a  wild,  passionate  burst  of  harmony,  in  which  a 
minor  note  of  wailing  softness  strangely  mingled,  then, 
dashing  into  a  gay,  reckless  strain,  the  ivory  seemed  to 
sparkle  under  her  touch. 

At  this  moment  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  Effie, 
running  in,  exclaimed — 

"  See,  mamma,  what  a  beautiful  necklace.  Netty  made 
it!" 


3G8  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

The  child  held  up  a  string  of  wild  scarlet  berries  that 
encircled  her  neck  and  also  passed  round  her  waist. 

Claudia  sprang  towards  the  child  so  suddenly,  that 
the  little  creature,  trembling  and  terrified,  ran  to  Eu- 
lalia,  leaped  into  her  lap,  and  locked  her  hands  tightly 
round  her  neck. 

"Give  me  the  child!"  cried  Claudia,  with  a  vehe- 
mence that  increased  Effie's  terror,  and  made  her  cling 
still  more  closely  to  Eulalia's  throbbing  bosom.  "  She 
is  mine  !  I  will  not  give  her  up  !  Has  not  the  mother 
a  right  to  her  own  child  ?  Look  at  me,  Effie  !  Speak 
to  me,  Effie  !  I  am  your  mamma !  Come  and  go  with 
me  !" 

"No,  you  ain't  my  mamma!"  answered  the  child, 
making  a  repelling  motion  with  her  foot,  still  keeping 
her  arms  tightly  folded  round  her  stepmother's  neck. 
"This  is  my  mamma — my  sweet,  pretty  mamma!  I 
love  her  !  I  won't  leave  her  !  Go  'way !  I  don't  want 
you  to  look  at  me  so  hard !" 

An  expression  of  unutterable  anguish  passed  over  the 
features  of  Claudia,  and  she  pressed  her  hand  upon  her 
bosom,  as  if  it  were  closing  over  a  wound.  Then  E ala- 
lia pitied  her,  pitied  her  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 
Over  the  wreck  of  all  womanly  charities  and  graces  and 
sensibilities,  maternal  love  cast  a  ray  of  redeeming  lus- 
tre. Like  a  plume  dropped  from  the  wing  of  a  departed 
angel,  it  was  a  token  of  vanished  glory. 

For  a  moment   the   young   stepmother  doubted  her 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         869 

right  to  resist  the  pleadings  of  nature.  Had  not  the 
mother  purchased  her  child  by  the  pains  and  sorrows  of 
maternity,  and  could  any  legal  decision  annul  the  great 
law  of  God,  which  makes  the  child  a  mother's  almost 
life-bought  property  ? 

"She  isn't  my  mamma,  is  she?"  whispered  Erne, 
glancing  obliquely  at  Claudia  through  her  long,  curling 
black  lashes.     "Make  her  go  away — I  don't  love  her  !" 

Eulalia  clasped  the  child  closer  to  her  bosom,  feeling 
still  more  intensely  for  the  unhappy  mother.  What 
answer  could  she  give  to  this  direct  question  ?  More- 
land  had  insisted  that  Effie  should  never  know  of  the 
existence  of  her  own  mother ;  that  her  name  should 
never  be  uttered  in  her  hearing ;  that  to  Eulalia  alone 
her  filial  thoughts  should  be  directed,  her  filial  obedience 
paid.  Could  she,  knowing  this  prohibition  in  all  its 
length  and  breadth,  say  to  the  child  that  the  woman, 
from  whose  large,  black,  wildly-beaming  eyes  she  was 
shrinking  in  terror  and  repugnance,  was  indeed  her 
mother  ? 

"Is  she  my  mamma?"  repeated  Effie,  impatient  at 
Eulalia's  silence. 

"Answer  her  !"  cried  Claudia,  sternly;  "answer  her  ! 
Tell  her  no,  at  the  peril  of  your  soul's  salvation  !" 

"  Why — why  have  you  come  hither,  to  bring  confusion 
and  sorrow  into  a  home  no  longer  yours  !"  answered 
Eulalia,  the  purity  and  strength  of  her  moral  principles 
conquering  the  softness  and  tenderness  of  her  nature. 


370  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"  This  child  is  mine — committed  to  my  guardianship  by 
the  father,  who  has  abjured  your  maternal  right !  The 
conduct  by  which  you  forfeited  your  position  as  a  wife, 
made  you  unworthy  to  fulfil  a  mother's  duties  !  Even 
if  virtually  innocent,  as  you  declare  yourself  to  be,  and 
you  have  allowed  disgrace  and  shame  to  rest  upon  you 
through  hatred  and  revenge,  you  are  guilty  of  blacker, 
more  deliberate  sin,  than  if  you  were  the  victim  of  pas- 
sion and  temptation  !  Go  ! — this  child  is  mine  !  I 
never  will  resign  her  !  Go  ! — your  presence  makes  me 
very  unhappy  !  The  air  is  oppressive  !  I  cannot  breathe 
freely !" 

She  looked  very  pale,  and  really  panted  for  breath. 
Little  Effie  was  half-suffocating  her  with  her  clinging 
arms ;  and  the  eyes  of  Claudia,  so  dark  and  sultry,  like 
the  lurid  dog-star,  seemed  surrounded  by  a  hot,  stifling 
atmosphere. 

"  I  will  have  the  child  !  By  Heaven  !  I'll  not  return 
without  her !"  exclaimed  Claudia,  snatching  Effie  with 
frantic  violence  from  her  arms  and  rushing  to  the  door. 
With  a  shriek  that  rung  through  the  house,  Eulalia 
sprang  after  her,  but  Claudia  had  gained  the  outer  door, 
smothering  the  cries  of  Effie  by  pressing  her  hand 
tightly  on  her  mouth.  She  there  met  an  unexpected 
impediment  in  the  ample  person  of  Aunt  Kizzie ;  and 
right  behind  her  were  Albert  and  Netty,  all  drawn  by 
that  one  piercing  shriek.  Claudia  struggled  to  pass 
them,  commanding  them  to  give  way,  with  the  authority 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  ERTDE.        371 

of  a  queen,  and  the  look  of  a  lioness  fighting  for  her 
young. 

"What  you  doing  with  little  missy,  I  want  to  know?" 
cried  Kizzie,  holding  out  her  strong  arms  to  the  child, 
who  was  writhing  and  coiling  herself  up  so  that  it  wa3 
almost  impossible  to  hold  her.  "  Give  her  here  ! — you 
got  nothing  to  do  with  her  now !  Putty  story  to  tell 
master  when  he  come  back  home !  Don't  cry,  honey, 
mammy  got  you,  sure  enough  !  Folks  as  wants  to  carry 
you  off  better  look  sharp — see  if  Kizzie  ain't  somewhere 
'bout!  Good  morning,  missus;"  making  a  mocking 
curtsy — "won't  keep  you  standing  !" 

Claudia,  baffled  and  insulted  by  the  very  vassals  she 
once  tried  to  trample  under  her  feet,  turned  furiously 
upon  Kizzie,  and  struck  at  her  with  frantic  rage.  Kizzie 
dodged  her  head  at  the  exact  moment,  and  Claudia's 
hand  came  down  upon  the  door  frame  with  such  force  that 
the  blood  gushed  from  her  fingers.  Albert  and  Netty 
both  laughed.  They  were  revenging  themselves  for  her 
former  haughtiness  and  insolence.  Infuriated  by  this 
fresh  insult,  she  again  lifted  her  hand  to  strike,  but  the 
sight  of  her  bleeding  fingers  suddenly  arrested  her. 
Perhaps  she  realized  for  the  first  time  the  impotence  of 
her  passion,  the  disgrace  she  was  bringing  on  herself 
Gathering  the  rich  drapery  of  lace  that  was  falling  from 
her  shoulders,  and  folding  it  round  her  arms  with  such 
a  quick,  passionate  gesture,  the  delicate  meshes  were 
rent  like  a  cobweb,  she  flew  down  the  steps,  entered  the 


372  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

carriage,  and  was  driven  rapidly  away.  Eulalia,  who 
stood  faint  and  trembling  in  the  inner  doorway,  saw  her 
put  her  head  from  the  carriage  just  as  it  rolled  away, 
and  gaze  at  the  house  and  its  surroundings,  with  a  wild, 
lingering  glance,  such  as  was  once  turned  upon  the  for- 
feited bowers  of  Paradise  by  earth's  first  tempted  and 
exiled. 

It  was  long  before  Eulalia  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  this  interview.  She  was  afraid  to  have  Effie  absent 
from  her  sight  one  moment.  She  did  not  feel  safe  her- 
self from  the  violence  of  this  fearful  woman.  She  was 
numiliated  by  the  knowledge  of  such  deep  depravity  in 
one  of  womankind.  It  was  exquisitely  painful  to  her  to 
think  that  Moreland  had  ever  loved  such  a  being.  It 
seemed  to  detract  from  the  purity,  the  dignity  of  his 
love  for  her.  True,  it  was  a  boyish  passion,  oaused  by 
a  fascination  such  as  the  serpent  exercises  on  its  victim, 
but  she  would  have  given  worlds  if  it  had  never  existed. 
Then  she  reflected  that  she  knew  this  before  she  married, 
that  Moreland  had  never  deceived  her,  and  that  what- 
ever his  feelings  had  once  been  for  Claudia,  she  herself 
now  reigned  sole  mistress  of  his  reclaimed  affections. 
It  was  weak,  it  was  sinful  in  her  to  indulge  in  these 
morbid  regrets.  Who  was  she,  that,  of  all  the  daughters 
of  humanity,  she  should  gather  the  roses  of  joy,  and  find 
no  thorns  beneath,  that  she  should  quaff  the  sparkling 
wine,  and  find  no  lees  in  the  cup  ?  Had  not  her  hus- 
band far  more  to  regret  than  she  ?     For  her  sake  he 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         878 

had  borne  with  injustice,  misconstruction,  and  prejudice ; 
he  had  bowed  his  pride  and  subdued  his  will,  and  sacri- 
ficed all  personal  feeling. 

Her  next  emotion  was  unalloyed  compassion  for  the 
erring  Claudia.  Had  she  been  good  and  true,  the  vil- 
lage maiden  of  the  North  would  never  have  been  the 
Southern  planter's  bride. 

We  said  in  the  beginning  of  this  history,  we  should 
say  no  more  of  Moreland's  past  life  than  "was  necessary 
for  a  clear  understanding  of  passing  events.  We  will  only 
say  a  few  words  here,  to  vindicate  him  from  the  charges 
brought  against  him  by  the  unhappy  Claudia.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  Italian  parents,  who  trained  her  from 
childhood  for  public  exhibition  in  the  song  and  the  dance. 
They  themselves  were  itinerant  minstrels,  wandering 
through  the  American  cities,  leading  a  kind  of  wild, 
gipsy  life,  satisfied  if  the  wants  of  the  present  moment 
were  supplied.  The  little  Claudia,  dressed  in  fantastic 
and  gaudy  attire,  attracted  the  admiration  of  all  by  her 
singular  and  brilliant  beauty,  and  her  wild,  elfin  graces. 
It  was  to  her  the  silver  was  tossed,  which  she  caught  as 
lightly  and  gracefully  as  the  wind  catches  the  blossom 
from  the  trees,  and  every  act  of  bounty  was  acknowledged 
by  a  fairy-like  curtsy  and  a  kiss  wafted  by  the  tiny  hand 
to  the  delighted  donor. 

Once  they  stopped  in  front  of  a  stately  mansion  in  a 
Southern  city ;  a  widow  lady  of  wealth  and  high  stand- 
ing was   the   occupant.     She  had  no   children   of   hei 


874  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

own ;  and,  as  she  looked  from  her  curtained  window  on 
the  beautiful  child,  doomed  to  such  a  reckless,  vagabond 
life,  her  heart  yearned  towards  her,  and  she  resolved  to 
rescue  her  from  the  degradation  in  which  she  would 
inevitably  plunge.  She  took  the  child,  exacting  a  pro- 
mise from  the  parents  to  relinquish  all  claim  to  and 
intercourse  with  her,  which  they  willingly  gave,  for  the 
sake  of  the  gold  she  so  liberally  bestowed  upon  them. 
Claudia  gave  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  her  benefactress, 
by  her  wilful,  passionate  temper,  which  had  never  known 
correction  or  management ;  but  she  was  so  beautiful, 
graceful,  and  intelligent, — was  so  much  caressed  and 
admired  by  all  her  visiters, — that  it  was  an  easy  task  to 
forgive  her  childish  offences.  She  grew  up  with  every 
advantage  of  education  that  wealth  could  impart ;  and, 
as  the  adopted  daughter  of  Mrs. ,  took  her  posi- 
tion at  the  head  of  fashionable  life.  When  Moreland 
was  in  the  first  glow  of  manhood,  he  met  her  in  the  ball- 
room, where  the  airy  graces  she  had  cultivated  in  child- 
hood hung  round  her,  like  gay  and  flowering  festoons, 
giving  a  wild  charm  to  her  beauty  that  rendered  it  irre- 
sistible. Moreland  was  young,  handsome,  and  rich. 
This  was  all  that  Claudia  asked  in  a  husband.  They 
seemed  drawn  by  a  mutual  attraction, —  nay,  it  was 
mutual,  for  Claudia  then  felt  for  Moreland  all  the  love 
her  vain  and  selfish  heart  was  capable  of  feeling.  Soon 
after  their  marriage,  her  benefactress  died.  A  great 
restraining  influence  was  thus   unfortunately  removed; 


THE   PLANTERS   NORTHERN   ERIDE.  d/O 

and  Claudia  began  to  display  those  violent  and  pas- 
sionate traits  of  character  she  had  cunningly  concealed 
from  the  lover  she  had  wished  to  charm.  The  slightest 
opposition  to  her  wishes,  the  mildest  admonition  or 
reproof,  created  such  a  storm  of  passion  in  her,  he  often 
turned  from  her  in  consternation  and  dismay,  almost 
believing  he  had  been  the  victim  of  an  evil  spirit,  who, 
assuming  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman,  had  ensnared 
his  hfiart,  and  was  seeking  the  destruction  of  his  soul. 
Another  source  of  misery  and  contention  was  the  reap- 
pearance of  her  mother,  claiming  to  be  received  into 
their  household.  Her  husband  was  dead;  and  as  the 
adopted  mother  of  Claudia  was  no  more,  she  was 
released  from  the  promise  which  bound  her  to  her. 
This  was  a  bitter  trial  to  Moreland,  but  he  could  not 
refuse  admittance  to  the  mother  of  his  wife.  But  when 
he  discovered  that  she  had  been  leading  an  abandoned 
life, — that,  even  then,  she  was  introducing  her  unprin- 
cipled companions  into  his  household  during  his  absence, 
and  making  his  home  a  scene  of  midnight  revelry, — he 
commanded  her  to  depart,  promising,  at  the  same  time, 
to  provide  liberally  for  her  future  wants.  We  will  not 
attempt  to  describe  the  frantic  violence  of  Claudia  at 
this  just  decree.  Not  that  she  loved  her  mother  much, 
but  she  loved  the  associations  of  the  wild  lawlessness  of 
her  early  life,  awakened  by  her  presence  ;  and  she  had 
more  fellowship  of  feeling  with  the  gay,  unprincipled 
men,  who  had  lately  frequented   the  house,  than  with 


376  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

her  noble  and  highminded  husband.  She  was  now  a 
mother,  and  Moreland  dealt  very  tenderly  with  her  on 
that  account.  He  endeavoured  to  win  her  by  gentle- 
ness and  love  to  a  wife's  duty, — a  mother's  holy  cares. 
But  with  all  this  tenderness  and  gentleness,  he  never 
forgot  his  own  dignity  and  self-respect.  There  was  one 
of  her  countrymen  whom  she  welcomed  as  a  visiter, 
whom  he  knew  to  be  unworthy  and  unprincipled.  lie 
forbade  her  to  associate  with  him.  She  laughed  at  the 
prohibition,  continued  to  meet  him  at  every  opportunity 
abroad,  and  received  him  clandestinely  at  home.  Ar- 
rested by  detection  in  her  mad  career,  she  justly  for- 
feited her  reputation,  her  position,  and  her  name.  The 
fortune  bequeathed  to  her  by  her  adopted  mother  was 
still  her  own,  Moreland  had  settled  it  upon  her  at  the 
time  of  their  marriage  ;  so,  in  all  the  glory  of  inde- 
pendence, she  launched  anew  into  the  world ;  but  found, 
by  fatal  experience,  that  neither  wealth,  nor  accomplish- 
ments, nor  beauty,  can  give  a  passport  in  society  to  the 
woman  whose  fame  is  clouded  by  suspicion,  or  stained 
by  ignominy. 

It  was  about  two  years  after  his  legal  emancipation 
from  these  unhallowed  bonds,  that  Moreland  travelled 
in  New  England,  and  first  met  Eulalia  Hastings  in  the 
village  church.  Was  it  a  mysterious  magnetism  that 
drew  him  towards  her,  after  having  abjured  the  love  of 
woman  ?  Was  it  not,  rather,  the  divine  sweetness  of 
her  voice,  the  heaveniy  serenity  of  her  countenance,  the 


THE  PLANTERS  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        Oil 

simplicity  and  tranquillity  of  her  manners,  presenting  so 
striking  a  contrast  to  the  stormy  electrical  splendour  of 
Claudia's  beauty,  her  impassioned  gestures,  and  wild 
paroxysms  of  mirth  or  anger  ? 

Is  not  the  truth  of  God,  proclaimed  mid  the  thunders 
and  lightnings  of  Sinai,  and  written  with  the  burning 
linger  of  Almighty  justice  there,  "that  the  sins  of  the 
fathers  should  be  visited  on  the  children,  even  unto  the 
third  or  fourth  generation,"  fearfully  shown  by  instances 
like  these  ?  Evil  qualities,  like  physical  diseases,  are 
often  hereditary,  and  descend,  like  the  leprosy,  a  cling- 
ing, withering  curse,  ineradicable  and  incurable.  The 
taint  was  in  Claudia's  blood.  Education,  precept,  and 
example  kept  down,  for  a  while,  her  natural  propensities, 
but  when  circumstances  favoured  their  growth,  they  dis- 
played a  rankness  and  luxuriance  that  could  proceed 
only  from  the  strongest  vitality.  She  had  transmitted 
to  her  child  her  passionate  and  wilful  temper,  but  Effie 
also  inherited  her  father's  heart,  and  heaven  gave  her 
into  Eulalia's  keeping.  Happy  influences,  in  her  case, 
neutralized  the  transmitted  curse,  or  rather,  converted 
it  into  a  blessing.  But  it  is  not  always  so.  Let  the 
man  who,  infatuated  by  passion,  is  about  to  marry  a 
woman  taken  originally  from  the  dregs  of  social  life, 
beware,  lest  he  entail  upon  his  offspring  the  awful  judg- 
ment pronounced  by  a  jealous  God. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Does  any  one  wish  to  know  what  became  of  Crissy, 
whom  we  left  floating  on  the  moonlighted  bosom  of  the 
Ohio? 

When  she  awoke  the  morning  after  her  flight,  she 
looked  round  her  with  bewildered  gaze.  She  sat  up  on 
her  pallet,  and  rubbing  her  eyes  very  hard,  endeavoured 
to  realize  where  she  was  and  how  she  came  there.  The 
room  was  unplastered,  not  even  lathed,  and  when  she 
looked  up  she  knew  by  the  slanting  rafters  overhead 
that  she  had  been  sleeping  in  a  garret.  She  was  con- 
scious of  having  overslept  herself,  for  the  roof  was 
already  radiating  upon  her  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 
The  air  was  very  close  and  oppressive,  there  being  but 
two  small  windows  at  each  end,  too  high  for  the  venti- 
lation of  anything  but  the  angle  of  the  roof.  There 
was  no  furniture  in  the  room  but  old  chests  and  boxes, 
and  large  bags,  and  a  pile  of  feather  beds,  with  the  hot 
down  oozing  through  the  worn  tick,  jammed  under  the 
eaves.     Crissy  felt  as  sultry  and  uncomfortable  as  if  one 

378 


HE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  379 

of  those  gushing  feather  beds  were  pressed  upon  her 
breast.  She  got  up  and  tried  to  look  out  of  the  window, 
but  it  was  too  high  for  her  reach.  Then  she  was  con- 
scious of  a  soreness  and  aching  in  her  limbs,  a  heaviness 
and  weight  upon  the  brain,  that  made  her  want  to  lean 
against  something  for  support.  The  chill  damp  night- 
air  in  which  she  had  been  bathed,  followed  by  the 
stifling  heat  of  the  garret,  had  brought  on  a  malady 
from  which  she  had  sometimes  suffered  in  her  Southern 
home.  She  began  to  feel  deadly  cold.  Chill,  shivering 
sensations  went  creeping  up  and  down  her  back,  while 
hot  water  seemed  splashing  on  her  face.  Her  hands 
were  like  ice,  and  the  blood  settled,  in  purplish  dark- 
ness, under  her  nails.  Presently  her  teeth  began  to 
chatter  like  a  windmill,  and,  throwing  herself  back  on 
the  pallet,  she  delivered  herself  up  to  all  the  horrors  of 
a  shaking  ague.  She  had  felt  them  before,  but  then  she 
had  somebody  to  take  care  of  her.  Old  Dicey  would 
have  her  brought  to  her  room,  and  see  that  all  kinds  of 
warm  possets  were  made  for  her  relief.  Jim  always 
fussed  and  pottered  about  her,  bringing  the  supreme 
remedy,  red  pepper  tea ;  and  if  it  chanced  to  be  Sun- 
day, he  would  stand  by  her  bedside  all  day,  smothering 
her  with  blankets  when  the  process  of  congelation  was 
going  on,  or  fanning  her  when  the  fever  fit  was  on  her. 
Ildegerte  too — how  kind  and  sympathizing  she  was  in 
sickness !  How  often  her  soft,  white  hand,  had  bathed 
the   negro's   aching   brow,   or  swathed   her  head  with 


380  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

cloths  saturated  with  camphor  and  cologne !  Crissy 
remembered  all  these  things  in  her  lonely  garret,  "with 
an  acuteness  of  anguish  she  had  never  felt  before. 
Then  she  began  to  recollect  how  she  came  in  that 
garret ;  how  Mr.  Softly  landed  her  at  night  at  the  door 
of  a  large,  tall,  dark-looking  house ;  how  he  talked  a 
long  time  with  a  large,  somewhat  rough-looking  man, 
while  she  stood  weary  and  frightened  at  a  little  distance, 
not  knowing  what  they  said,  but  certain  that  they  were 
talking  about  her.  Then  she  recollected  that  a  sullen- 
looking  negro  woman  came  with  a  light  and  told  her  to 
follow  her,  and  that  she  went  climbing  and  climbing 
after  her,  till  she  reached  her  present  altitude.  Mr. 
Softly  had  returned  immediately  in  the  boat,  so  she  had 
no  opportunity  of  appealing  to  him,  as  she  would  gladly 
have  done,  for  permission  to  return  to  her  deserted  mis- 
tress. He  had  taken  every  precaution  to  prevent  such 
a  contingency.  He  had  brought  her  by  water,  so  that 
she  could  not  trace  her  path  backward.  He  had  given 
particular  instructions  to  the  master  of  the  house  not  to 
allow  her  any  facilities  for  departure,  advising  him  to 
take  charge  of  her  money,  of  which  he  was  assured  she 
had  a  tolerable  supply. 

It  was  very  strange  that  Mr.  Softly  should  have  taken 
so  much  trouble  about  this  woman,  that  he  should  have 
carried  her  off  so  far,  when  she  could  have  been  secreted 
so  easily  in  some  of  the  by-lanes  and  corners  of  a  large 
city.     But  no  matter  how  secure  was  her  retreat  there, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIBE.         381 

she  could  at  any  time  wend  her  way  back,  if  she  found 
her  first  draught  of  freedom  dashed  with  bitterness. 
Mr.  Softly  had  no  idea  of  allowing  any  such  thing.  She 
must  be  free !  She  should  be  free  !  It  was  Tier  duty 
to  be  so,  whether  she  desired  it  or  not.  It  was  his  duty 
to  make  her  so,  in  spite  of  her  resistance  and  remorseful 
scruples.  If  she  was  such  a  fool  as  to  wish  to  remain 
in  bonds  because  she  had  a  pleasant  home  and  kind  mis- 
tress and  security  against  future  want,  it  did  not  lessen 
the  responsibility  that  rested  on  him.  He  was  a  libera- 
tor, and  his  system  must  be  carried  out,  let  circum- 
stances be  what  they  might.  Opposition  only  gave  energy 
to  his  purpose  and  fuel  to  his  zeal.  The  very  fact  of 
Crissy's  being  content  with  her  lot  and  unwilling  to 
change  it,  showed  the  depth  of  her  misery  and  degrada- 
tion. It  was  that  morbid  insensibility,  more  frightful 
than  the  extremity  of  suffering.  So  Mr.  Softly  said, 
and  Mrs.  Softly  said,  for  it  was  a  shocking  thing  to 
them,  that  a  person  should  presume  to  be  happy  in  a 
situation  in  which  they  had  resolved  she  should  be 
wretched.  It  was  an  unpardonable  insult  to  their  judg- 
ment, an  insolent  defiance  of  their  will. 

Crissy  seemed  to  have  risen  above  the  recollection  of 
the  inmates  of  the  house,  for  no  one  approached  her 
lofty  attic,  though  the  morning  was  rapidly  advancing. 
The  cold  stage  of  her  disease  had  passed,  and  the  burn- 
ing and  restlessness  of  fever  commenced.  She  would 
have  given  worlds  for  a  drop  of  water,  but  there  was 
159 


S32  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

none  near.  Unable  to  endure  the  tortures  of  this  un- 
quenched  thirst,  she  sat  up,  dressed  herself  as  well  as 
she  could,  and  fumbled  down  the  narrow  stairway  to  a 
broad  landing  place,  and  there,  several  diverging  paths 
seemed  open  to  her  through  various  doors,  but  she  was 
afraid  of  going  wrong,  and  stood  looking  on  this  side 
and  that,  trembling  and  irresolute.  At  length  one  of 
the  doors  opened,  and  a  pale,  interesting,  anxious  look- 
ing young  woman  appeared,  poising  a  baby  on  her  left 
hip,  as  if  to  rest  her  weary  arms.  She  stopped  at  the 
sight  of  Crissy,  and  rested  herself  against  the  broom- 
handle  which  she  held  in  her  right  hand,  while  the  baby, 
with  four  fingers  and  a  thumb  buried  in  its  mouth,  fixed 
on  the  stranger  its  round,  speculating  eyes. 

"Please,  missus,"  said  Crissy,  in  a  querulous,  dis- 
tressed tone,  "  please  tell  me  where  I  can  get  some  wa- 
ter.    I  most  done  dead  with  fever." 

"  Are  you  the  runaway  negro  who  came  in  the  night  ?" 
asked  the  woman,  with  so  compassionate  an  expression 
of  countenance  that  Cris3y  felt  drawn  towards  her  at 
once.  Yet  she  resented  being  called  a  runaway  negro, 
and  answered  indignantly,  that  she  was  no  runaway, 
"she  came  in  a  boat." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  come  here  for  ?"  asked  the  young 
woman. 

Crissy  stared  upon  her  as  if  she  did  not  know  what 
she  meant,  then  stammered — 

"  Come   here   for,    missus  !     To   be  free,    I   'spose. 


THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  383 

Mars.  Softly  brought  me.     Don't  know  nothing  about 
the  place." 

"You  had  better  have  stayed  where  you  were,  I  sus- 
pect. Mr.  Softly  might  be  in  better  business  than  fill- 
ing our  house  with  fugitive  slaves.  What  a  poor  sickly 
creature  you  seem !  What  in  the  world  do  you  expect 
to  do?" 

"I  ain't  sickly  !"  replied  Crissy.  "I  only  cotched  a 
chill  by  being  out  on  the  river  at  night.  I'm  smart  as 
anybody  when  I'm  well.  I  just  wants  water,  missus, 
to  quench  the  fever." 

"Poor  creature !"  again  repeated  the  young  woman, 
"how  hollow  your  cheeks  are!"  adding  with  a  sigh, 
while  she  led  the  way  down  another  flight  of  stairs, 
"you  must  have  been  dreadfully  treated  and  abused,  I 
know  !" 

The  baby  was  transferred  to  the  other  side  by  this 
time,  and  had  another  set  of  fingers  in  its  mouth,  and 
all  the  way  down  stairs  it  kept  throwing  its  head  back 
and  rolling  its  round  eyes  up  to  Crissy,  to  whose  sore 
and  wounded  pride  even  the  baby's  scrutiny  was  painful. 
She  had  lost  all  her  self-respect,  and  felt  lowered  in  the 
scale  of  being.  To  be  called  a  runaway,  a  fugitive 
slave,  a  poor,  miserable,  sickly  creature,  was  an  indig- 
nity she  never  expected  to  meet.  What  made  it  harder 
to  bear,  was,  that  the  young  woman  spoke  compassion- 
ately, and  had  no  intention  of  insulting  her.  Her  hoi 
low  cheeks  !  just  the  Avay  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Softly  talked 


S84  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

When  she  was  at  home,  where  everybody  was  used  to 
her,  they  never  twitted  her  with  her  hollow  cheeks.  She 
mentally  resolved,  that,  before  she  started  out  to  make 
the  great  fortune  which  was  hers  in  reversion,  she  would 
stuff  them  with  cotton,  and  take  away  the  reproach  of 
past  unkindness  on  the  part  of  her  mistress. 

She  was  conducted  to  the  kitchen,  where  the  negro 
woman  who  had  shown  her  the  way  to  the  garret  was 
making  a  clatter  among  the  pots  and  kettles,  prepara- 
tory for  dinner.  Poor  Crissy  half  emptied  the  water 
bucket,  in  her  burning  thirst,  then  seated  herself  by  the 
door,  where  the  air  could  refresh  her  aching  and  feverish 
frame. 

"Could  you  hold  the  baby  for  me,  a  few  moments?" 
said  the  young  woman,  pressing  her  hand  wearily  against 
her  side.     "  She  won't  cry  or  pester  you  !" 

Crissy  held  out  her  arms  for  the  child,  who  sprang 
rejoicingly  into  them,  glad  to  have  a  position  where  the 
balance  of  gravity  could  be  preserved  with  less  difficulty. 
Crissy,  as  the  little  creature  looked  up  innocently  in 
her  face  and  smiled,  thought  of  her  own  forsaken  chil- 
dren, and  the  tears  rolled,  one  after  another,  in  big 
drops  down  her  dusky  cheeks.  The  cook  glanced 
obliquely  upon  her  from  her  iron  battery,  muttering 
something  about  the  kitchen  being  no  place  for  lazy 
folks,  whose  room  was  better  than  their  company. 

"She's  sick,  Holly!"  said  the  young  woman;   "let 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         385 

her  be.  You  must  not  speak  cross  to  her.  There's 
enough  beside  you  to  do  that." 

"Are  you  tired?"  said  she  to  Crissy;  "I  will  come 
back  soon." 

"No,  no;  I  love  to  hold  it.  It  takes  away  the  lone- 
someness  from  my  heart,"  answered  Crissy,  looking 
wistfully  in  the  face  of  the  young  woman  as  she  left  the 
kitchen, — a  face  which,  though  pale  and  faded,  had  the 
traces  of  beauty  and  symmetry.  It  was  a  face  of  sickly 
interest,  and  told  of  early  disappointment,  sorrow,  and 
debility. 

"  Is  that  your  missus  ?"  asked  she  of  the  cook. 

"  No — that  she  ain't.  I  hain't  got  no  mistress.  I'm 
my  own  mistress.  Her  daddy  hires  me — Mr.  Springer. 
That's  young  Miss  Springer — his  son's  wife.  Her  hus- 
band killed  a  man  in  a  quarrel,  and  had  to  run  off  to 
Texas.  That's  what  makes  her  look  so  down  in  the 
mouth." 

Crissy  felt  a  sensation  of  unspeakable  relief  in  know- 
ing the  name  of  the  people  to  whom  she  was  transferred. 
She  learned,  moreover,  that  Mr.  Springer  was  an  archi- 
tect, a  master  builder,  who  had  a  great  many  workmen 
under  him,  and  that  everybody  round  and  about  him  had 
to  work.  There  were  two  women  down  at  the  spring 
washing,  but,  as  Holly  said,  "  they  couldn't  begin  to 
get  through,"  and  Crissy  was  to  help  them  wash  and 
iron. 

"  Mr.  Springer  gets  a  heap  of  work  out  of  runaways,' 


386  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

said  Holly,  with  an  air  of  conscious  superiority ;  "  he's 
willing  enough  to  let  'em  come  and  stay  a  while,  'cause 
of  the  help  they  be  to  him.  But  hi ! — the  way  they  have 
to  work !" 

"He  gives  'em  wages,  sure  enough?"  cried  Crissy, 
whose  heart  sank  lower  and  lower  with  every  word  of 
Holly,  till  it  felt  heavy  as  the  weight  of  a  clock. 

"  That  he  don't — not  to  the  runaways.  He  just  gives 
'em  a  home  and  their  vittles.  Now  such  as  me  won't 
work  without  wages.  I  ain't  going  to  stay  much  longer, 
though.  The  place  is  too  hard.  Heap  ruther  work  for 
quality  folks  than  mechanics :  ain't  half  as  hard  to 
please." 

Crissy,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  house  as  a 
waiting-maid,  had  never  known  what  hard  work  was. 
Her  constitution  was  naturally  slender,  and  had  never 
been  hardened  by  labour  or  exposure.  She  was  a  neat 
seamstress,  a  nice,  handy  attendant,  and  excellent  nurse  ; 
but  as  for  cooking,  except  dainties  for  the  sick,  it  had 
never  been  required  of  her,  and  washing  and  ironing 
had  always  been  considered  too  laborious  for  her. 

"I  was  never  used  to  hard  work,"  said  Crissy,  groan- 
ing at  the  prospect  before  her. 

"What  did  you  run  away  for?"  asked  Holly.  "I 
'spose  they  abused  you.  You  look  as  if  you  had  seen 
hard  times — and  you  ain't  got  through,  either !" 

"  Nobody  never  had  a  better  massa  and  missus,  in  the 
world,"  exclaimed  Crissy,  with  a  burst  of  feeling  she 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  387 

jould  not  repress.  "  They  never  gin  me  a  cross  word, 
let  alone  anything  worse.  No,  no:  nobody  shall  say 
nothing  against  them  !" 

"Well,  if  you  ain't  the  biggest  fool  I  ever  did  see !" 
cried  Holly,  elevating  her  tongs  in  the  air,  as  if  she  were 
going  to  seize  her  by  the  nose ;  "  what  in  the  world  did 
you  run  off  for  ?" 

"  Mr.  Softly  made  me.  He  and  she  both  beset  me, 
and  said  it  was  an  awful  sin  to  live  as  I  did,  and  that 
I'd  make  a  great  big  fortin',  and  live  like  a  fine  lady,  and 
buy  Jim  and  the  children  !  Oh,  Lord !  'spose  I  never 
see  'em  no  more  !" 

Crissy  squeezed  the  baby  to  her  breast,  and  wept  and 
sobbed  outright.  Where  were  her  golden  castles  now  ? 
All  melted  away,  leaving  the  dross  of  disappointment, 
the  ashes  of  remorse.  Where  was  the  exulting  sense  of 
freedom,  that  was  to  bear  her  up,  as  on  the  wings  of  an 
eagle,  while  the  chains  of  bondage  dropped  clanking 
below  ?  A  more  helpless,  forlorn,  dispirited  creature 
never  existed  than  Crissy  was  at  this  moment ! 

"If  you'd  had  a  cruel  master  and  mistress,  that 
threatened  to  sell  you  and  take  away  your  children,  I 
wouldn't  blame  you  for  leaving  'em,"  said  Holly,  witl 
another  flourish  of  her  tongs ;  "  but  I  could  tell  you 
that  freedom  for  poor  black  folks  ain't  what  it  is  to  the 
rich  white  people.  Some  of  us  has  to  scuffle  mighty 
hard  to  get  along,  I  can  tell  you.  My  master  set  me 
free  when  he  died ;  but  I've  seen  a  heap  harder  times 


388  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

since  than  I  ever  done  afore.  I  earn  enough  to  git 
my  vittles  and  clothes,  and  them  was  gin  me  at  home." 

Unable  to  endure  any  longer  the  burning  restlessness 
of  fever,  increased  by  the  agony  of  her  mind,  Crissy 
begged  for  a  place  where  she  could  lie  down, — any- 
where but  that  dreadful,  lonely  garret.  Holly,  who 
seemed  to  have  more  kindness  than  her  sullen  counte- 
nance promised,  pointed  to  a  little  room  adjoining  the 
kitchen,  where  she  said  she  could  find  a  bed. 

Such  was  Crissy's  introduction  to  the  new  home 
which  Mr.  Softly's  philanthropy  had  procured  for  her. 
But  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  The  chill 
she  had  caught  on  the  river  was  the  precursor  of  a 
bilious  fever,  which  prostrated  her  for  many  weeks, 
making  her  a  burden  on  the  strangers,  who  had  received 
her  for  the  benefit  of  her  labour.  Mr.  Springer,  a 
hard-working,  industrious  man  himself,  who  had  every- 
body up  and  doing  at  the  dawn  of  day,  and  who  esti- 
mated every  one  according  to  their  capacity  for  labour, 
was  exceedingly  angry  at  Crissy  for  being  sick,  and  at 
Mr.  Softly  for  imposing  upon  him  such  a  good-for- 
nothing,  no-account  creature.  He  had  trial  enough 
already,  in  a  sickly,  moping  daughter-in-law.  Sickness 
was,  with  him,  an  unpardonable  sin.  He  had  never 
known  a  day's  illness  in  his  life,  and  thought,  if  every 
one  was  as  industrious  as  he  was,  they  would  havo  the 
same  immunity  from  suffering.  As  day  after  da} ,  and 
week  after  week,  Crissy  lingered  on  her  sick-bed  wjfh- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         389 

out  showing  symptoms  of  amendment,  he  became  more 
and  more  incensed,  and  declared  that  as  soon  as  she 
was  able  to  walk  she  should  tramp,  as  he  had  no  idea 
of  having  his  house  turned  into  a  lazar-house. 

Elizabeth  Springer,  whose  own  sorrows  and  waning 
health  had  taught  her  sympathy  and  compassion,  and 
whose  heart  was  naturally  gentle  and  kind,  did  all  she 
could  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  Crissy,  and  to  shield 
her  from  the  harshness  of  her  father-in-law.  She  had  a 
pallet  made  for  her  in  her  own  room ;  and,  when  she 
felt  well  enough,  the  baby  would  sit  by  her,  and  play 
with  her  woolly  locks,  or  stick  its  chubby  fingers  in  the 
cavities  of  her  cheeks.  Crissy  conceived  for  Elizabeth 
a  grateful,  enthusiastic  attachment,  second  only  to  what 
she  felt  for  Ildegerte.  As  soon  as  she  was  able  to  sit 
up,  she  insisted  upon  taking  charge  of  the  baby,  and 
relieving  the  young  mother  of  a  care  she  was  too  feeble 
to  sustain.  But  this  was  an  arrangement  Mr.  Springer 
had  no  thought  of  sanctioning.  If  she  was  able  to  sit 
up,  she  was  able  to  work, — and  work  she  must,  or  go 
away  from  there.  Things  had  come  to  a  pretty  pass, 
if  it  took  two  women  to  take  care  of  one  baby. 

"  She  is  too  feeble  to  work,  yet,"  said  Elizabeth,  in  a 
mild,  deprecating  tone. 

"Well,  let  her  take  her  choice,  either  to  put  herself 
to  work  to-morrow,  or  to  take  herself  off.  She  is  as 
well  and  strong  as  anybody,  if  she  has  a  mind  to  think 
so." 


300         THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE. 

Cnssy's  only  desire  was  to  return  to  her  forsaken 
mistress,  and  throw  herself  upon  her  forgiving  love. 
Her  image,  weeping,  despairing,  hanging  over  her  dying 
master,  was  for  ever  before  her,  a  reproachful,  haunting 
remembrance.  She  would  describe  her  to  Elizabeth 
again  and  again,  whose  countenance  expressed  the  most 
vivid  sympathy  with  her  sorrows. 

"There's  something  worse  than  that,"  said  the  young 
woman,  sighing ;  "  something  worse  than  death.  If  I 
could  weep  over  the  grave  of  my  husband,  it  seems  as 
if  it  would  take  away  the  dull,  leaden  feeling  from  my 
heart ;  but  to  know  that  he's  alive,  and  yet  dead  to  me, 
suffering  for  other  people's  sins  (for  it  was  to  save  his 
own  life  he  took  another's),  yet  talked  about  as  if  he 
were  a  criminal.     Oh  !  this  is  a  heavy  cross  to  bear  !" 

Elizabeth  was  one  of  those  sensitive,  gentle  beings, 
who,  if  placed  in  a  genial  atmosphere,  bloom  with  the 
ragrance  and  delicacy  of  the  lily,  but  if  exposed  to  un- 
kindly influences,  droop  and  wither,  with  an  untimely 
blight.  Hers  was  a  sad  and  dreary  home,  without  sym- 
pathy or  love,  without  one  flower  of  sentiment  or  beam 
of  joy.  She  had  no  female  companion  or  friend  on 
whom  she  could  lean  her  weary  heart,  and  to  whom  she 
could  unburden  its  bitterness  and  grief.  Perhaps  this 
was  best.  It  reconciled  her  to  the  prospect  of  an  early 
grave.  The  wilted  blossom  falls  of  itself  to  the  earth, 
it  requires  not  to  be  wrenched  from  the  stem. 

Elizabeth  has  been  drawn  into  our  story  by  the  stream 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        391 

£jf  events,  like  a  twig  cast  into  the  water  and  drifted  on 
its  foam.  We  shall  shortly  leave  her,  and  of  her  after- 
history  know  nothing ;  but  no  one  could  look  upon  her 
pale,  sad,  and  once  beautiful  countenance,  without  feel- 
ing drawn  towards  her  as  Crissy  was,  pitying  her  as  a 
wanderer  from  her  proper  sphere. 

The  next  morning  Crissy,  summoning  all  the  strength 
and  resolution  of  which  she  was  mistress,  went  to  Mr. 
Springer,  and  told  him,  as  she  was  too  weakly  to  do 
hard  work,  she  was  going  back  to  her  mistress,  and 
asked  him  to  please  give  her  the  money  he  had  taken 
care  of. 

The  money  !  had  not  she  spent  that,  and  far  more, 
for  her  board  and  medicine  ?  Had  not  she  been  a  cost 
and  a  trouble,  and  then  to  have  the  impudence  to  come 
to  him  for  money !  It  is  no  wonder  that  he  was  angry, 
but  Crissy  had  never  thought  of  herself  as  a  boarder. 
She  had  been  so  accustomed  to  being  taken  care  of,  she 
forgot  she  had  no  claims  on  a  stranger's  bounty.  No 
matter  !  she  could  beg  her  way  back  to  the  city.  It 
was  only  ten  miles.  Beg !  there  would  be  no  need  of 
begging.  Elizabeth  would  give  her  food  enough  to  last 
her,  and  she  could  inquire  from  house  to  house  the  direc- 
tion she  must  take.  No  one  would  deny  her  the  privi- 
lege of  resting  awhile,  when  she  was  too  weary  to  go  on. 

So,  with  her  bundle  on  her  head,  and  a  little  money, 
which  Elizabeth  insisted  upon  her  taking,  in  her  pocket, 
Crissy,  like  the  returning  prodigal,  prepared  to  leave 


892  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  husks  she  had  been  chewing,  and  seek  again  the 
wheaten  bread  she  had  thrown  away.  She  wept  in  part- 
ing from  the  sad,  gentle  Elizabeth,  and  her  innocent, 
smiling  baby;  even  to  Holly  she  felt  grateful,  and  of 
'  *Ir.  Springer's  harshness  she  had  no  right  to  complain. 
Very  meek  and  humble  and  subdued  was  poor  Crissy, 
when  she  started  on  her  backward  pilgrimage,  convinced, 
by  her  own  experience,  that,  however  glorious  freedom 
was  in  itself,  it  had  proved  to  her  the  only  slavery  she 
had  ever  known. 

Her  trials  were  far  from  being  ended ;  for,  enfeebled 
by  long  sickness,  after  walking  a  few  miles,  she  could 
hardly  drag  one  weary  foot  after  another.  She  was 
obliged  to  stop  and  beg  permission  to  rest, — and  the 
rest  proved  long.  She  was  unable  to  resume  her  jour- 
ney that  day ;  the  next  found  her  too  ill  to  rise ;  and 
though  she  was  fortunately  thrown  on  the  kindness  of 
Christian  people,  who  administered  to  her  necessities, 
she  still  felt  the  soreness  and  loneliness  of  the  stranger's 
heart ;  she  still  felt  the  humiliation  of  being  the  recipient 
of  favours  to  which  she  had  no  legitimate  right.  She 
overheard  herself  spoken  of  as  a  poor  runaway ;  and, 
as  formerly,  her  master  and  mistress  had  to  bear  the 
reproach  of  her  thin,  unhappy  appearance. 

At  last  the  wanderer  reached  the  city,  and  crawled 
towards  the  hotel  wnere  she  had  left  her  master  and 
mistress.  Would  she  find  them  both  ?  Would  she  find 
either  ?    These  fearful  questions  had  been  pressing  upon 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         393 

her,  forcibly  and  painfully,  as  she  came  nearer  and 
nearer  her  journey's  end.  Ashamed  of  being  seen  by 
the  servants  in  her  present  altered  and  forlorn  condition, 
she  entered  the  front  door,  and  was  gliding  up  the  stairs 
to  the  apartment  of  her  mistress,  when  her  eye  was 
arrested  by  the  figure  of  Dr.  Darley,  walking  up  and 
down  the  passage.  He  saw  her,  and,  calling  her  by 
name,  approached  the  place  where  she  stood,  clinging  to 
the  banisters,  a  cold  dew  oozing  from  her  forehead. 

"You  need  not  go  up,"  said  he,  sternly;  "your  mis- 
tress is  not  there." 

Crissy  tried  to  speak,  but  she  only  gasped  for  breath. 
The  doctor,  seeing  the  agonized  expression  of  her  coun- 
tenance, added,  more  mildly, 

"You  have  come  back  too  late.  Your  master  has 
been  dead  many  weeks.  Your  mistress  has  gone  back 
to  her  home ;  her  brother  came  for  her.  Judy,  your 
fellow-servant,  filled  your  vacant  place." 

Crissy  felt  as  if  a  dart  were  shot  right  through  her 
heart.     Gone,  and  she  left !     Gone,  and  Judy  with  her ! 

Throwing  up  her  hands,  with  a  wild  cry  of  despair, 
she  fell  forward  with  her  face  on  the  stairs,  perfectly 
insensible. 

Yes  !  Ildegerte  was  gone,  and,  faithful  to  her  pro- 
mise, took  with  her  the  ugly  and  despised  Judy.  More- 
land  had  made  every  endeavour  to  find  the  fugitive, — 
not  with  any  intention  of  forcing  her  to  return,  but  to 
give  her  the  opportunity,  which  he  had  no  doubt  she  by 


394  THE   PLANTER  S    N0RTHER1N    BRIDE. 

that  time  desired,  of  being  restored  to  her  mistress,  her 
husband,  and  her  children.  Being  unsuccessful  in  his 
search,  he  commended  her  to  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Dar- 
ley,  should  she  happen  to  cross  the  path  of  the  benevo- 
lent physician. 

"  Tell  her,"  said  Ildegerte, — her  large,  melancholy, 
but  still  lustrous  eyes  suffusing  with  tears, — "  tell  her 
that  I  forgive  her.  I  have  not  one  bitter  feeling  towards 
her.  If  she  has  found  a  happier  home  than  I  could 
give  her,  I  rejoice.  I  only  wish  I  knew,  so  that  I 
could  tell  her  husband  and  children  that  she  is  happy. 
Poor  Crissy !  she  never  could  endure  much  hardship." 

The  doctor  promised  to  be  faithful  to  the  trust  im- 
parted, and  he  promised,  moreover,  that  in  his  profes- 
sional rides  in  the  vicinity  of  the  city  he  would  bear  the 
fugitive  in  mind,  and  endeavour  to  trace  her  footsteps. 

"Do  not,  I  pray  you,  my  dear  sir,"  said  he  to  More- 
land,  just  before  parting — "  do  not  go  away  believing 
our  city  is  made  up  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Softlys.  I  assure 
you  we  have  as  high-minded  and  noble-hearted  citizens 
dwelling  in  our  midst  as  can  be  found  on  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

"Believe  me,  doctor,"  answered  Moreland,  with  ear- 
nestness and  warmth,  "  one  Dr.  Darley  would  outweigh 
in  influence  a  thousand  Softlys.  I  wish  you  would  come 
and  see  us,  come  and  dwell  among  us,  that  we  might 
have  constant,  daily  communion.  To  me  it  would  be  a 
source  of  immeasurable  benefit,  as  well  as  happiness." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.,        305 

"  Thank  you — I  do  intend  to  visit  you.  I  am  study- 
ing the  diseases  indigenous  to  the  South,  and  my  path 
will  lead  me  through  the  regions  which  you  inhabit.  I 
have  travelled  much  in  the  South ;  and  being  a  native 

if  the  North,  and  a  dweller  in  the  West,  it  may  be  pre- 
sumed that  I  could  make  fair  comparisons  and  draw 
rational  deductions.  The  subject  of  slavery  has  been 
only  secondary  in  my  mind,  and  I  have  constantly  com- 
pared what  I  have  heard  with  what  I  have  seen.  I 
heard  that  your  slaves  slept  like  cattle,  in  hovels  desti- 
tute of  floors,  with  nothing  but  a  blanket  to  protect 
them  from  the  damp,  mouldy  earth,  being  deprived  of 
the  comfort  of  beds.  I  found  them  the  tenants  of  as 
comfortable  cabins  as  our  respectable  poor  occupy,  and 
almost  every  one  adorned  with  a  very  ambitious-looking 
bed.  I  heard  they  were  half-fed,  half-clothed,  miserable 
creatures,  in  the  most  abject  condition  it  is  possible  for 
imagination  to  conceive.  I  saw  them  fat,  sleek,  good- 
natured,  well  clothed,  and  above  all  contented  with  their 
lot.  I  cannot  say  but  that  there  were  some  exceptions  ; 
but  I  speak  of  the  general  aspect  of  things.  I  do  not 
believe  I  ever  encountered  a  misanthropist  among  the 
negroes.     Now,  it  is  my  deliberately  formed  opinion, 

hat  those  who  sow  the  seeds  of  discontent  and  disaffec- 
tion in  their  midst;  who  would  deprive  them  of  the 
comforts  which  they  really  enjoy,  without  offering  them 
an  equivalent,  are,  under  the  garb  of  friends,  their  most 
dangerous  enemies.     And  the  master  who,  actuated  like 


89G  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

yourself  by  Christian  principles,  regards  them  as  mem- 
bers of  his  family,  dependants  on  his  care,  considering 
himself  responsible  for  their  physical  and  moral  "well- 
being,  is  their  best  and  truest  friend.  Forgive  me  for 
giving  you  a  long  and  tedious  homily,  instead  of  the 
friendly  farewell  that  my  heart  urges  me  to  utter.  I 
have  got  a  habit  of  lecturing,  and  I  do  it  unconsciously. 
God  bless  you,  sir,  and  you  too,  dear  young  lady.  May 
the  roses  of  the  South  once  more  bloom  upon  your 
cheek !  We  have  had  many,  many  talks  together.  I 
do  not  expect  you  will  remember  them  all;  but  if  you 
have  gathered  a  few  grains  of  wheat,  in  the  midst  of 
much  chaff,  may  they  bring  forth  in  memory  a  golden 
harvest." 

Dr.  Darley  would  make  rather  long  speeches,  but  no 
one  thought  them  too  long  while  listening,  and  meeting 
the  kind,  smiling  glance  of  his  intellectual  beaming  eye. 

Ildegerte  did  not  attempt  to  speak  the  gratitude  that 
filled  her  heart  to  overflowing.  The  tears,  however, 
which  she  abundantly  shed,  were  more  eloquent  than 
words. 

We  will  not  describe  the  homeward  journey.  It  was 
sad;  for  they  were  accompanied  by  one  silent,  voiceless 
traveller,  who  diffused  around  him  a  cold,  mournful 
atmosphere. 

It  was  the  request  of  Richard  Laurens  that  he  might 
be  borne  back  to  the  beautiful  groves  of  the  South,  and 
buried  in  their  fragrant  shades.     Then,  when  his  wifo 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        397 

was  ready  for  the  last  deep,  quiet  sleep,  she  could  come 
and  lie  down  at  his  side,  and  the  same  green  covering 
would  envelop  them  both. 

So,  in  a  triple  coffin,  the  body  of  the  young  husband 
was  carried  to  the  scenes  of  his  short-lived  wedded  hap- 
piness. And  all  the  way  the  widowed  Ildegerte  could 
see  with  the  spirit  glance,  the  marble  face,  shaded  by 
pale,  golden  hair,  concealed  by  the  dark  coffin  lid. 


160 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

We  come  to  a  new  era  in  our  history,  and  a  new  cha- 
racter, whose  influence  will  be  felt  during  the  remainder 
of  these  pages. 

A  stranger,  in  a  very  plain,  unpretending  Jersey  wa- 
gon, stopped  at  the  gate  of  a  noble,  pillared  mansion. 
As  it  was  a  warm  summer  evening,  the  family,  as  is 
tisual  at  the  South,  were  gathered  in  the  portico,  which, 
being  elevated  by  a  long  flight  of  granite  steps,  looked 
down  upon  the  street,  like  the  gallery  of  an  amphi- 
theatre. It  was  a  beautiful  family  group,  and  might 
justify  the  long  and  earnest  gaze  of  the  stranger,  while 
fastening  his  horse,  preparatory  to  entrance.  As  the 
individuals  who  composed  the  group  were  all  old  friends 
but  one,  we  will  speak  of  them  by  name,  as,  with 
ningled  curiosity  and  surprise,  they  waited  the  approach 
f  tae  stranger  who  had  come  in  so  humble  an  equipage. 

"Does  not  that  remind  you  of  New  England,  Eula?" 
asked  Moreland,  with  a  smile. 

"The  Jersey  wagon?  Oh,  yes!"  she  answered,  the 
quick  colour  rising  to  her  cheek.     Perhaps  he  was  a 

398 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  339 

messenger  from  her  own  home.  Did  he  come  the  he- 
rald of  joy,  or  of  woe  ?  The  bare  thought  of  the  last 
turned  to  the  whiteness  of  marble  the  dawning  rose-hue. 

Kizzie,  who  was  walking  the  portico  with  a  beautiful 
babe  in  her  arms,  while  Effie  gambolled  at  her  side, 
glanced  contemptuously  at  the  humble  vehicle,  and  mut- 
tered to  herself — "  He's  no  quality  people.  They  don't 
ride  in  that  style.     I  'spect  he's  a  pedlar." 

Ildegerte,  pale  and  statue-like  in  her  black  robes  of 
widowhood,  manifested  not  the  slightest  interest  or  emo- 
tion. Her  large,  pensive  black  eyes  passed  beyond  the 
advancing  figure,  and  rested  on  the  golden  clouds  that 
lay  cradled  near  the  setting  sun.  They  looked  as  if 
they  might  be  the  throne  of  angels,  and  she  imagined 
she  could  trace,  in  their  dazzling  outline,  one  form  >e- 
clining  on  a  couch  of  downy  gold,  whose  pale  amber  hair 
made  a  crown  of  glory  on  his  brow.  But  there  was  one, 
who  stood  behind  Ildegerte,  who  watched  with  suspicious 
glances  the  meek  stranger,  who  had  now  reached  the 
lower  step,  which  led  up  to  the  portico.  Are  we  mis- 
taken, or  is  it  indeed  our  old  friend,  Crissy,  come  back, 
like  a  wandering  sheep,  to  the  fold  ?  If  it  is,  we  verily 
believe  she  has  stuffed  her  cheeks  with  cotton,  they  look 
so  much  fuller  and  rounder  than  we  have  ever  seen  them 
before.  She  must  have  been  feasting  on  the  fatted  calf 
of  welcome,  and  revelling  in  the  joys  of  restoration. 

Moreland  met  the  stranger  at  the  foot  of  the  steps, 
and  conducted  him  forward  with  that  courtesy  which  is 


400  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  distinguishing  grace  of  the  Southern  gentleman. 
The  stranger  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  handed 
it  to  Moreland  with  an  air  of  humility  and  meekness. 
Holding  his  hat  in  his  left  hand,  he  smoothed  back  his 
long  darkish  hair  behind  his  ears  with  his  right,  while 
his  eyes,  riveted  upon  the  floor,  seemed  to  think  them- 
selves unauthorized  to  gaze  on  the  beautiful  women 
before  him,  until  permitted  by  the  master  of  the  man- 
sion. 

"You  are  welcome,  sir,"  said  Moreland,  after  perus- 
ing the  letter.  "The  Rev.  Mr.  Brainard,  from  the 
North,"  added  he,  introducing  him  to  his  wife  and  the 
other  members  of  the  family.  A  bow  of  the  deepest 
reverence  and  humility  acknowledged  this  hospitable 
greeting.  Eula,  whose  heart  warmed  towards  any  one 
from  her  own  Northern  regions,  gave  him  her  hand,  and 
expressed  her  pleasure  in  meeting  one  whom  she  could 
claim  as  a  countryman.  Perhaps  he  knew  her  father  ? 
Yes !  he  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Mr.  Hastings. 
He  had  once  been  his  guest  since  her  departure  from 
home,  and  had  heard  most  affectionate  allusions  made 
to  the  absent  daughter  and  sister.  He  had  seen  her 
excellent  mother,  her  studious,  high-spirited  brother, 
and  the  little  chattering  Dora.  This  was  sufficient  to 
insure  him  the  reception  of  a  friend,  and  his  clerical 
profession  was,  of  itself,  a  passport  to  respect. 

In  a  few  moments  Albert  was  seen  mounted  in  state 
in  the  little  wagon,  whirling  it  off  to  the  stable  with 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        401 

greater  rapidity  than  it  had  ever  known  before.  The 
minister  seemed  somewhat  shocked  at  the  unministerial 
gait  of  his  horse,  and  looked  anxiously  after  the  animal, 
when,  suddenly  starting,  he  exclaimed — 

"  My  trunk,  if  you  please,  sir  !  I  would  like  to  have 
my  trunk  carried  to  my  room.  I  have  very  valuable 
papers  in  it — at  least  to  me.  To  us  poor  labourers  in 
our  Master's  vineyard,  notes  and  heads  of  discourses  are 
more  precious  than  bank  bills." 

The  voice  of  the  minister  was  very  sweet-toned,  and 
now  that  he  had  summoned  courage  to  raise  his  eyeg 
and  exhibit  their  colour,  they  were  observed  to  be  of  a 
clear,  soft  blue.  There  was  something  deprecating  and 
appealing  in  their  expression,  which  excited  the  kind  of 
interest  which  woman  inspires.  Moreland  assured  him 
that  his  trunk  should  be  cared  for  immediately,  and 
begged  him  to  feel  perfectly  at  home  while  he  remained 
his  guest. 

"  Oh  !  how  grateful  to  the  weary  stranger  is  a  wel- 
come like  this  !"  he  exclaimed,  lifting  his  soft,  blue  eyes 
with  devout  gratitude  to  heaven.  "  Thanks  be  to  God 
for  his  unspeakable  goodness  !  When  I  approached 
this  magnificent  mansion,  I  did  not  expect  its  princely 
owners  would  receive  so  kindly  the  wayfarer  who 
entered  their  gate.  I  have  heard  of  Southern  hospi- 
tality, but  now  I  begin  to  experience  its  soul-cheering 
warmth." 

Aunt  Kizzio,  who  had   an   unbounded  veneration  for 


402  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

preaelirvs,  no  sooner  discovered  that  the  stranger  be- 
longed io  the  sacred  order,  than  her  contempt  for  the 
Jersey  wagon  was  forgotten.  And  when  he  stretched 
out  his  arms  towards  the  infant  she  so  proudly  carried, 
and  asked  Eula,  "if  that  beautiful  babe  were  hers?"  he 
was  beginning  to  storm  the  citadel  of  her  heart.  Yes ! 
the  crowning  grace  of  maternity  had  humanized  the 
celestial  loveliness  of  Eula.  The  infant  boy,  whom  the 
minister  now  cradled  very  gently  and  lovingly  in  his 
arms,  was  her  own  child,  the  first  male  heir  in  the  family 
of  Moreland,  the  darling  of  the  household,  and  the  espe- 
cial idol  of  its  father.  Though  not  more  than  five  or 
six  months  of  age,  a  finer  specimen  of  baby  humanity 
could  rarely  be  exhibited,  than  the  little  Russell  More- 
land,  and  he  possessed  one  of  those  serene  and  lovely 
temperaments  which  transform  infants  into  cherubs. 
With  the  innocent  pride  of  a  young  and  doting  mother, 
Eula  watched  her  child  as  it  perused  with  its  pure  hazel 
eyes  the  face  of  Mr.  Brainard,  with  the  intentness  of  a 
physiognomist,  and  twisted  its  waxen  fingers  in  his 
ministerial  locks. 

"Blessed  art  thou  among  women,  and  blessed  be  thy 
offspring  !"  said  he,  raising  the  infant  aloft,  as  if  to  bring 
it  nearer  the  heaven  he  was  invoking.  Then,  giving  it 
back  to  the  exulting  Kizzie,  he  stooped  down  to  the 
black-haired  fairy,  seated,  for  a  wonder,  quietly  on  the 
floor.  She  seemed  engaged,  like  her  little  brother,  in 
physiognomical  investigations,  for  her  black  eyes  were 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         403 

sparkling  on  him  through  her  thick  curls,  like  glow- 
worms in  a  thicket. 

"Is  this  little  girl  also  yours  ?"  he  asked,  lifting  Effie 
to  his  knee,  who  made  herself  wondrously  heavy,  by 
sinking  downward  in  proportion  as  he  elevated  he:. 
"It  is  not  possible." 

"It  is  Mr.  Moreland's  child  by  a  former  marriage," 
replied  Eula ;  and,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  prevent  it, 
her  whole  face  crimsoned. 

"Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Brainard,  "its  mother  is  dead,  then  ! 
but  it  will  never  know  the  want  of  a  mother's  care." 

Eula  looked  at  her  husband,  but  they  both  remained 
silent. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  children,"  said  he,  trying  to 
smooth  back  her  rippling  hair,  while  she  shook  her 
head  waywardly  from  side  to  side ;  "you  and  I  must  be 
better  acquainted,  little  lady." 

"I  don't  want  to,"  cried  Effie.     "I  don't  like  you." 

"  And  why,  my  darling,  don't  you  like  me  ?  I  have 
a  little  girl  at  home,  who  loves  me  very  much." 

"Your  chin  is  too  sharp,  and  your  eyes  are  sleepy," 
said  the  child,  sliding  from  his  arms,  which  involuntarily 
relaxed.  "  You  are  not  like  my  papa,  and  we  can't  be 
friends." 

The  face  of  the  minister  grew  very  red  at  the  little 
girl's  criticism  of  his  features;  but  he  smiled  very 
pleasantly,  and  said  he  liked  her  candour.  Eula  was 
shocked  at  Erne's  rudeness ;  but  there  was  an  undaunted 


404  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

frankness  about  the  child,  which  she  had  vainly  endea- 
voured to  bring  under  the  discipline  of  politeness.  As 
Mr.  Brainard's  profile  happened  to  be  in  a  line  with  her 
eye,  she  was  struck  with  the  truth  of  Effie's  remark,  for 
his  chin  was  sharp  and  projecting,  and  he  had  a  manner 
of  half-closing  his  eyes  when  he  talked,  which  did  not 
please  the  bright,  wide-awake  child. 

At  supper,  when  he  asked  the  customary  blessing  on 
the  board,  he  included,  in  an  especial  manner,  all  the 
coloured  members  of  the  household, —  a  circumstance 
which  did  not  escape  the  appreciating  ears  of  Aunt 
Kizzie.  He  seemed  oppressed  by  the  attentions  of  the 
servants,  received  them  with  an  apologetical  look,  and 
an  air  of  meek  endurance,  like  one  submitting  his  will  to 
the  bondage  of  custom. 

"  Have  you  become  reconciled  to  the  South,  Mrs. 
Moreland?"  he  asked  of  Eula,  whose  fair  face  at  that 
moment  was  relieved  by  the  yellow  countenances  of 
Albert  and  Netty,  which  shone  on  either  side  of  her. 

"  Far  more  than  reconciled, — strongly  attached,"  she 
replied. 

"  Do  you  prefer  it  to  your  native  North  ?" 

"  That  is  rather  a  hard  question  ;  but  I  do  prefer  the 
lovely  climate,  that  makes  the  rigours  of  a  Northern 
winter  seem  a  cold  dream.  Then  there  is  so  much 
bloom  and  beauty  around  me, — " 

"And  wealth  and  luxury,"  he  added,  glancing,  with 
a  smile,   at    the    richly  furnished    apartment, — at   the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        405 

table,  with  its  tea-service  of  the  most  delicate  porcelain, 
set  off  by  accompaniments  of  massy,  glittering  silver  ; 
and  then,  more  expressively  still,  at  the  negroes  in  close 
attendance. 

"Yes,"  said  Eula,  looking  gratefully  at  her  husband, 
I  am  not  insensible  to  the  superior  advantages  of  my 
present  position.  In  the  simplicity  of  my  native  home 
I  was  content,  and  I  trust  I  should  have  remained  so ; 
but  I  have  had  many,  many  sources  of  enjoyment 
opened  since,  of  which  I  never  dreamed  then. 

The  vision  of  a  dark,  polished  walnut  table,  set  out 
with  old-fashioned  china, — of  an  antique  silver  urn, — 
of  a  mother's  mild,  dignified  countenance,  reflected  from 
its  mirror,  passed  before  her,  and  moistened  the  dark, 
drooping  lashes  that  shaded  her  cheek. 

"It  is  astonishing,"  said  Mr.  Brainard,  laying  down 
his  silver  fork  with  mathematical  precision  across  his 
plate,  "  how  soon  one  gets  weaned  from  old  habits  and 
associations.  One  would  suppose,"  he  added,  turning 
to  Moreland,  "  that  my  fair  countrywoman  here  had 
been  born  and  bred  at  the  South,  instead  of  a  simple 
New  England  village." 

"  She  is  filling  the  place  for  which  she  was  expressly 
created,"  cried  Moreland,  "therefore  she  falls  easily 
and  gracefully  in  it.     She  is  at  home  now." 

"I  shall  visit  her  parents  when  I  return,  and  tell 
them  how  happy  she  is." 

"  I  have  told  them  so  a  thousand  times  already,  with 


406  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

my  pen,"  exclaimed  Eula.  "I  believe  I  have  written 
volumes  ;  and  I  believe,  also,  I  have  removed  already, 
prejudices  which  were  once  thought  insurmountable." 

The  minister  shook  his  head. 

"Your  father's  prejudices,"  said  he,  "are  too  deep- 
seated  to  be  removed.  They  are  his  principles,  and 
their  roots  strike  deep  as  life." 

Moreland  seemed  anxious  to  change  the  conversation, 
and  started  topics  of  general  interest.  He  did  not 
know  yet  whether  Mr.  Brainard  was  the  friend  or 
enemy  of  the  South,  by  his  ambiguous  expressions. 

After  supper  was  over,  and  Eula  retired  with  the 
children,  the  gentlemen  again  took  their  seats  in  the 
piazza,  and  Moreland  drew  his  guest  into  an  expression 
of  his  object  in  coming  among  them. 

"I  have  come,"  said  Mr.  Brainard,  after  a  long  and 
confidential  interview — "  I  have  come  hither  as  an  hum- 
ble missionary,  in  the  cause  of  my  divine  Master.  The 
sphere  I  have  chosen  is  a  lowly  one,  but  I  leave  the 
mountain  path  to  the  high  and  mighty.  The  narrowest 
by-path  of  the  valley,  so  that  I  can  trace  there  the  print 
of  my  Saviour's  feet,  is  lofty  enough  for  me.  I  have 
ever  felt  the  deepest  interest  in  the  poor  benighted 
African.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  longed  to  plunge  at 
once  into  the  wildernesses  of  Ethiopia  and  drag  out  some 
of  the  perishing  wretches  who  were  doomed  to  the  ray- 
less  darkness  of  heathenism.  I  made  a  vow,  that  when 
I  grew  to  manhood  I  would  devote  my  whole  life   to 


the  planter's  northern  eride.  407 

labours  of  love  for  them.  As  I  have  told  you,  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  can  be  most  useful  by  preaching  to  those 
who  have  become  civilized  and  partly  Christianized  by 
slavery.  It  is  true  you  have  preachers  in  your  midst, 
who  give  them  religious  instruction  ;  but  it  is  a  secondary 
object  with  them.  They  have  white  congregations  who 
have  the  first  claims  to  their  labours.  If  they  preach 
in  the  morning  to  their  own  people,  and  in  the  evening 
to  the  blacks,  they  do  not  carry  to  them  the  freshness 
and  earnestness  of  a  first  effort.  They  do  not  give 
them  the  firstling  of  the  flock.  Whereas,  a  man  who, 
like  myself,  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  them,  must 
feel  a  more  burning  zeal,  a  more  concentrated  desire  for 
their  salvation.  If  he  have  but  one  duty  to  perform, 
he  must  do  it  more  faithfully  and  conscientiously  than 
when  his  energies  are  turned  into  innumerable  chan- 
nels." 

"  There  is  much  truth  in  your  assertions,  sir,"  replied 
Moreland ;  "  but  we  Southerners  are  justified  in  pre- 
ferring preachers  educated  among  us  to  those  raised  at 
the  North.  We  do  not  wish  to  expose  our  institutions 
to  the  undermining  influences  which  you  are  well  aware 
are  at  work  against  us.  We  are  obliged  to  be  cautious, 
sir;  for  the  agents  of  fanaticism  are  scattered  over  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  and  in  the  name  (5f  the 
living  God  endeavouring  to  destroy  our  liberties  and 
rights." 

The  lamp  suspended  in  the  passage  threw  long  streams 


408  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

of  radiance  across  the  portico,  and  lighted  up  the  place 
where  the  minister  sat,  making  a  halo  round  his  chair. 
He  did  not  speak  immediately,  but  lifted  his  eyes 
upwards  in  silent  appeal  to  Heaven.  Moreland  saw 
this,  and  his  conscience  upbraided  him  for  his  sus- 
picions. 

"I  am  not  naturally  suspicious,"  said  he;  "no  man 
has  more  unlimited  trust  in  my  fellow  men  than  myself; 
but  our  dearest  interests  are  at  stake,  and  what  is  still 
more,  the  union  which  the  blood  of  our  forefathers  has 
for  ever  hallowed." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,"  said  Mr.  Brainard, — and  his  low 
musical  voice  dropped  with  silver  cadence  on  the  ear  of 
night — "  far  be  it  from  me  to  encroach  on  your  rights, 
or  to  interfere  with  your  peculiar  institutions.  All  my 
desire  is  to  preach  Jesus  Christ,  and  Him  crucified ;  to 
address  the  coloured  race  as  sinners,  not  as  slaves.  I 
think  I  have  been  blessed  in  rny  preaching  to  them.  I 
think  God  anointed  me  with  his  Holy  Spirit  for  that  one 
purpose.  I  came  to  you  with  letters  of  introduction,  in 
the  hope  of  finding  aid  and  encouragement  from  you. 
T  was  told  you  were  a  Christian,  and  would  eagerly 
embrace  an  opportunity  of  improving  the  religious  con- 
dition of  a  race,  excluded  by  circumstances  from  the 
usual  "privileges  of  education.  Having  wedded  a  N<  rth- 
ern  lady,  I  dared  to  think  you  would  welcome,  fo;  her 
sake,  a  brother  from  the  New  England  States.      You 


THE    PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  409 

have  welcomed  me,  and  I  am  grateful ;  but  I  want  still 
more — your  earnest,  Christian  co-operation." 

"You  shall  have  it,"  exclaimed  Moreland,  ashamed 
of  his  weak  misgivings.  "I  will  introduce  you  to-mor- 
row to  some  of  the  most  influential  religious  persons  in 
the  city,  and  I  do  not  doubt  you  will  find  a  cordial 
greeting.  There  is  a  very  fine  church,  belonging  ex- 
clusively to  the  Africans,  situated  on  a  beautiful  com- 
mon, quite  aloof  from  all  other  buildings.  There  are 
also  houses  appropriated  to  negro  worship,  near  the 
churches  of  the  various  religious  denominations.  The 
Methodist,  however,  is  the  predominant  sect." 

"I  am  a  Methodist,  sir,"  said  the  minister,  meekly. 

"I  thought  so,"  replied  Moreland;  "but  that  makes 
no  difference,  in  my  estimation.  I  am  an  Episcopalian  ; 
my  wife  a  Presbyterian.  I  have  no  sectarian  feelings. 
George  Whitfield  and  John  Wesley  are  great  and  glo- 
rious names.  I  honour  them.  Besides,  I  think  your 
peculiar  style  of  preaching  is  better  adapted  than  any 
other  for  their  warm  and  simple  hearts.  The  demon- 
strations of  enthusiasm,  which  a  colder  formula  represses, 
constitute  the  joy  of  their  religion.  They  all  expect  to 
go  to  heaven  with  shouts  of  glory  and  songs  of  victory, 
or  never  reach  there  at  all.  There  is  no  silent  path  for 
them." 

In  the  mean  time  the  kitchen  cabinet  discussed  the 
merits  of  the  stranger  guest. 

Netty,  who  was  young  and  giddy,  and  much  given  to 


410  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

worldly  vanities,  was  disposed  to  cavil  at  his  ministerial 
peculiarities,  and  indulge  in  witticisms  at  Lis  expense. 

"I  thought  I  should  have  died  a  laughing,"  said  she, 
winking  at  Albert,  her  professed  admirer,  "to  hear  Miss 
Effie  tell  him  'bout  his  sharp  chin  and  sleepy  eyes.  I 
had  to  pinch  myself  hard  as  ever  I  could  to  keep  from 
busting  out.  I  never  noticed  afore,  but  'tis  as  sharp  as 
any  razor,  and  turns  up  like  the  peak  of  Albert's  old 
boot  yonder." 

"Ain't  you  'shamed,  Netty,"  cried  Kizzie,  in  a  tone 
of  solemn  rebuke,  "to  speak  so  unrespectably  of  the 
Lord's  anointed  ?  Miss  Effie's  a  child,  and  don't  know 
no  better ;  but  for  grown  folks  there's  no  manner  of  ex- 
cuse. He's  a  godly  man  and  of  beautiful  countenance, 
according  to  my  appearance,  and  seems  to  have  a  great 
respect  for  us  coloured  people.  I  tell  you  preachers  is 
not  to  be  lightly  spoken  of.  The  Lord  set  the  wild 
bears  on  the  children,  once,  that  mocked  at  their  blessed 
heads." 

"He's  got  a  fine  carriage,  hain't  he?"  said  Albert, 
throwing  a  roguish  glance  at  Netty  over  Aunt  Kizzie's 
shoulder,  "and  a  most  beautiful  horse — I  expect  it  can 
go  at  least  a  mile  an  hour  !  His  trunk  that  he's  so 
choice  of,  looks  a  thousand  years  old,  and  the  back  of 
his  coat  shines  like  Aunt  Kizzie's  forehead.  I  mean  to 
ask  master  to  let  me  give  him  one  of  my  cast-off  ones. 
'Sposeldo?" 

"Saucy  boy!"  exclaimed  Kizzie,  slapping  him  on  the 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  411 

back,  laughing,  in  spite  of  herself,  at  his  good-natured 
insolence;  "you  knows  you're  a  favourite,  or  yuu 
wouldn't  presume  the  way  you  do.  You'd  better  hush 
up  among  you.  This  gentleman's  come  a  purpose  to 
preach  to  us  black  people,  all  over  the  world.  I  hearn 
'em  tell  massa  so ;  and  Mars.  Russell  say  the  doors  of 
all  the  churches  going  to  swing  right  open  and  let  'em 
in.  You'd  better  mind  what  you  say.  He  got  the  Lord 
on  his  side.     You'll  find  it  out." 

"Hope  he  ain't  no  wolf  in  sheep-skin!"  said  Crissy. 
"I  seen  'em  'fore  now !" 

Crissy  quoted  many  a  wise  aphorism  since  her  sojourn 
in  the  west. 

"S'pose  he  come  to  make  us  all  free !"  said  Albert ; 
"  how  you  like  that,  Crissy  ?  When  he  asks  you  to  tell 
your  experience,  give  him  a  touch  of  Massa  Softly, 
Crissy." 

Crissy  shrunk  into  herself,  as  she  always  did  at  Mr. 
Softly's  name.  It  was  associated  in  her  remembrance 
with  disgrace  and  sorrow,  and  had  given  her  a  taste  for 
hard  and  harsh-sounding  things. 

There  was  one  member  of  the  kitchen  cabinet  who 
generally  kept  in  the  background,  believing  herself 
inferior  to  the  rest — and  that  was  Judy.  At  first  she 
was  looked  upon  rather  as  an  interloper ;  but  her  love 
for  Ildegerte,  which  fell  little  short  of  adoration,  her 
willingness  to  bear  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day,  and 
her  humble   appreciation  of  herself,  soon  removed  all 


412  the  planter's  nortiiern  bride. 

prejudice  against  her,  and  substituted  in  its  stead  a  cor- 
dial good-will. 

"  Perhaps  he  come  to  tell  us  what  de  preacher  did 
once  in  old  Kentuck,"  said  Judy,  rapping  the  ashes 
from  her  pipe;  "de  corn-field  preacher  he  was,  and 
had  de  pulpit  made  out  of  de  green  pine  houghs.  'Twas 
in  de  time  of  cotton  picking,  and  we'd  all  been  working 
mighty  hard.  I  tell  you — ses  he, — '  Niggers,  if  you're 
faithful  to  your  masters  and  work  to  the  top  of  your 
'bility,  neber  lie,  nor  steal,  nor  run  away,  dare's  a  great 
big  cotton  field  up  yonder,  where  you'll  pick  to  all  etar- 
nity  and  da  basket  neber  git  full.  De  field  all  white  for 
de  picking.  De  angels  help  pull  off  de  bolls.'  Tinks  I 
to  myself,  I'll  let  de  angels  pick  just  as  much  as  dey 
please  for  all  Judy.  She  want  to  do  someting  else,  if 
she  eber  get  to  heben.  Plenty  of  cotton  to  pick  in  dis 
world.     'Spect  to  pick  gold  up  yonder." 

The  silver  tinkling  of  a  little  bell  was  heard,  and  Judy 
started  to  her  feet. 

"Dat's  Miss  Ilda's  bell!"  said  she,  eagerly;  but  be- 
fore she  could  obey  its  summons,  the  lighter-footed  Crissy 
was  half-way  up  stairs. 

"Dat's  de  way!"  said  Judy,  taking  up  her  pipe; 
"neber  can  keep  up  wid  Crissy!  Neber  mind!  She 
got  de  best  right,  I  'spose !  Judy's  too  ugly  to  wait  on 
de  beautiful  young  ladies  in  dis  house !  better  keep  her 
place  in  de  kitchen !  tink  dat  de  Paradise  a'most !" 

The  evening  of  the  following  Sunday,  Mr.  Brainard 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         413 

preached  in  the  African  church  to  an  overflowing  au- 
dience. The  Northern  stranger,  passing  through  the 
city,  would  naturally  ask  what  handsome  brick  building 
occupied  so  conspicuous  and  commanding  a  site  on  that 
smooth,  grassy  common.  Green  blinds  protected  its 
numerous  windows  from  the  sun,  and  formed  a  refreshing 
contrast  with  the  pale  red  of  the  walls.  The  interior  of 
the  church  was  finished  with  great  simplicity  and  neat- 
ness. The  ceiling  was  of  spotless  whiteness,  and  the 
area  around  the  pulpit  handsomely  carpeted.  Astral 
lamps  illuminated  the  altar,  and  shed  a  soft,  moonlight 
radiance  on  the  dusky  faces,  upturned  with  solemn 
reverence  to  the  new  messenger  of  salvation  looking 
down  upon  them.  Is  that  a  congregation  of  slaves,  that 
well-dressed,  fashionably-attired  audience  ?  There  is 
the  rustle  of  tissues,  the  fluttering  of  muslins  and  laces, 
the  waving  of  feathery  fans,  the  glitter  of  jewelry,  min- 
gling with  the  white  gleam  of  the  ivory,  seen  through 
the  dark,  parted  lips.  Certainly,  a  more  decorous,  reve- 
rential, waiting,  listening  throng  never  gathered  in  a 
sanctuary,  to  witness  the  "stately  steppings"  of  God's 
mighty  spirit. 

Moreland  stood  near  the  door,  anxious  to  hear  the 
first  sermon  of  the  Northern  missionary.  Never  had  he 
found  it  so  difficult  to  form  a  decision  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  a  stranger.  At  one  moment  he  was  strongly 
attracted,  at  another  as  strongly  repelled.  Sometimes 
he  thought  him  one  of  those  holy,  self-sacrificing  beings 
161 


414  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

•who,  in  the  ancient  days  of  persecution,  would  have  glo- 
ried in  the  burning  stake,  the  flaming  crown,  and  shouted 
amid  the  agonies  of  martyrdom.  Then,  again,  he  ima- 
gined there  was  something  sinister  and  insidious  about 
him,  and  the  soft  closing  of  his  blue  eye  reminded  him 
of  the  slow  sheathing  of  a  shining  weapon.  Whenever . 
he  was  conscious  of  such  a  feeling  he  would  shake  it 
from  him,  as  he  would  a  worm  that  crept  stealthily  over 
him,  shocked  that,  for  a  moment,  he  could  give  admission 
to  thoughts  which  he  contemned  and  despised. 

Now,  as  he  looked  upon  him,  with  the  length  of  the 
aisle  between  them,  his  countenance  lighted  up  with  the 
pale  yet  dazzling  lustre  of  the  mimic  moonlight,  and 
the  sharp  outline  of  his  features  .thus  softened  and  sub- 
dued, his  long  brown  hair  parted  with  an  apostolic  wave 
and  flowing  back  from  his  temples,  he  seemed  an  admi- 
rable personification  of  the  text — 

"Beautiful  on  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  who 
bringeth  good  tidings,  who  saith  unto  Zion,  Thy  God 
reigneth." 

He  commenced  in  a  low,  clear,  and  sweet  voice,  and 
in  a  calm,  dispassionate  manner.  He  told  them  that  he 
was  a  stranger,  come  among  them  to  do  them  good, — 
that  he  had  left  the  comforts  and  endearments  of  home 
for  the  love  of  their  precious  souls, — that  he  asked  not 
for  silver  or  gold,  nor  for  praise  nor  fame ;  all  he  wanted 
was  the  willing  spirit,  the  listening  ear,  and  the  believ- 
ing heart.     A  faint  groaning  sound  was  the  response  to 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        415 

this  exordium.  Then  gradually  he  kindled  into  deeper 
fervour,  and  made  those  startling  appeals  to  the  imagina- 
tion which  the  negro  never  hears  unmoved.  Had  little 
Effie  been  present,  she  would  not  have  accused  him  of 
looking  sleepy  then.  His  eyes  flashed  like  the  lightnings 
of  heaven ;  his  voice  deepened  into  its  thunders,  and  his 
arms  swayed  at  the  bidding  of  his  stormy  eloquence. 
The  negroes  began  to  shout  and  clap  their  hands  in  an 
ecstasy  of  ungovernable  emotion.  Many  of  them  pros- 
trated themselves  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  and  grovelled 
there  in  tears  ;  others  shrieked  "  Glory!  glory !"  till  the 
walls  resounded  with  the  hosannas,  and  they  rolled  forth 
on  the  breezes  of  night. 

Moreland  scarcely  recognised  the  meek,  humble  tra- 
veller of  the  Jersey  wagon,  in  the  wildly  splendid  oiator 
of  the  evening.  Surely  it  was  the  inspiration  of  religion  ! 
It  could  be  nothing  else.  He  felt  borne  along  himself 
upon  the  fiery  waves  of  his  eloquence.  He  did  not 
wonder  at  the  excitement  of  the  congregation.  By  and 
by,  the  minister  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  and  knelt 
by  those  prostrate  and  weeping  at  the  altar.  He  ad- 
dressed them  in  low  soothing  accents,  ever  and  anon 
bursting  forth  into  snatches  of  sacred  melody,  and 
gushes  of  holy  song.  He  went  down  the  aisles  and 
grasped  the  sable  hands  eagerly  extended  towards  him, 
giving  a  fervent  "God  bless  you,  my  brother!" — "Joy 
be  with  you,  my  sister !"  as  he  passed  along. 

There  were  many  white  men  present  that  night  who 


416  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

went  away  deeply  impressed  with  the  eloquence  of  the 
preacher.  He  received  the  most  urgent  invitations  to 
address  his  white  brethren,  also ;  but  he  quietly,  though 
firmly  refused.  He  had  marked  out  his  line  of  duty, 
and  would  not  swerve  from  it.  In  consequence  of  this 
refusal,  the  African  church  was  crowded  almost  to  suffo- 
cation whenever  he  preached,  till  at  length  he  was  com- 
pelled to  come  forth  under  the  canopy  of  heaven,  and 
beneath  the  moon  and  the  stars,  and  the  stilly,  falling 
dews,  to  scatter  the  fiery  sparks  of  his  eloquence,  till 
the  multitude  kindled  and  glowed  like  a  blazing  prairie. 

Peculiarly  susceptible  as  are  the  Africans  to  religious 
impressions,  it  is  not  strange  that  a  general  revival  was 
the  result  of  Mr.  Brainard's  exertions.  Even  Albert 
and  Netty  were  prostrated  before  him,  in  the  depths  of 
humiliation, — believing  that  he  held  the  golden  keys  of 
Paradise  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  the  iron  ones 
that  open  the  gates  of  despair.  No  more  laughter  and 
light  talking  about  the  old  horse,  and  the  shining  coat, 
and  the  worn-out  trunk.  Indeed,  the  coat  was  replaced 
by  a  handsome  new  broadcloth  one,  the  gift  of  More- 
land  ;  and,  when  he  rode  abroad,  Moreland's  elegant 
carriage  and  fine  horses  were  at  his  disposal.  Well 
might  he  say  that  his  lines  had  fallen  in  pleasant 
places. 

It  was  not,  hoAvever,  in  a  city  well  supplied  with 
ministers,  that  Mr.  Brainard  wished  to  locate  himself. 
It  was  on  the  plantations  that  he  thought  he  should  find 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         417 

the  most  abundant  field  for  his  labours,  where  the  privi- 
leges of  religion  were  less  abundantly  enjoyed.  The 
preacher  whom  Moreland  and  an  adjoining  planter 
jointly  employed  was  at  this  time  disabled  by  sickness 
from  fulfilling  his  duties,  and  Moreland  offered  the 
situation  to  Brainard,  in  whose  piety  he  had  now  the 
most  implicit  confidence.  The  offer  was  gladly  accepted, 
and  in  a  short  time  he  was  to  be  installed  in  his  new 
office. 

It  was  astonishing  how  he  had  ingratiated  himself 
with  every  member  of  the  household.  He  seemed  to 
have  found  the  avenue  to  every  heart  but  Effie's,  who 
experienced  one  of  those  instinctive  dislikes  which  child- 
ren sometimes  conceive,  and  for  which  they  cannot 
account.  In  vain  he  coaxed  and  caressed  her,  offered 
her  sugar-plums  and  candy ;  she  would  shake  her  elfin 
locks,  pout  her  red  lips,  and  elude  his  detaining  arms. 

"  You  are  very  wrong,  Effie,"  Eula  would  say ;  "  Mr. 
Brainard  is  very  kind,  and  takes  a  great  deal  of  notice 
of  you,  for  a  little  girl.     It  is  not  lady-like,  either." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  a  lady,  mamma,"  the  child  per- 
sisted in  replying ;  "  and  I  don't  want  Mr.  Brainard  to 
love  me.  I  don't  want  him  to  touch  me,  and  I  can't 
help  it." 

He  had  completely  won  the  heart  of  the  young  mother 
by  his  devotion  to  her  beautiful  boy.  He  would  dandle 
it  by  the  hour,  sing  it  sweet  lullabys,  or  toss  it  in  his 
arms  till  its  infant  laughter  rung  like  silvery  bells  on  the 


41S  THE    PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

air.  lie  dwelt  on  the  pride  and  delight  with  which  she 
would  exhibit  her  infant  to  her  parents  and  Northern 
friends,  in  her  contemplated  visit  home.  He  expatiated 
on  the  noble  and  generous  qualities  of  her  husband ;  on 
his  humanity  as  a  master,  his  devotion  as  a  friend,  on 
his  manly,  Christian  graces,  till  her  heart  glowed,  like 
the  disciples  at  Emmaus,  when  their  master  was  talking. 

To  the  widowed  and  sorrow-stricken  Ildegerte  he  was 
an  angel  of  consolation.  He  conversed  with  her  of  her 
departed  husband,  of  his  present  glorified  state,  of  the 
divine  communion  she  was  to  enjoy  with  him  hereafter, 
in  terms  of  such  sweet,  exalted  rapture,  his  breath 
seemed  to  fan  the  drooping  wings  of  her  spirit,  and 
winnow  fragrance  from  the  fluttering  plumes. 

One  day  while  he  was  sitting  with  Eula  in  the  par- 
lour, and  Effie  was  playing  in  the  passage — 

"That  child,"  said  he,  looking  at  her  through  the 
open  door,  "  is  a  very  remarkable  one.  She  requires 
the  most  watchful  and  tender  guardianship,  as  well  as 
the  firmest  and  most  unshaken  discipline.  Happy  is  it 
for  her,  since  death  has  deprived  her  of  a  mother's  care, 
that  the  void  has  been  filled  by  one  so  fond  to  cherish, 
so  faithful  to  watch  over  her  as  yourself." 

"  She  was   not   deprived  of  her  mother  by  death,' 
replied  Eula,  with  burning  cheeks.     She  felt  a  strange 
reluctance  to  allude  to  the  unhappy  circumstances  of  her 
husband's  first  marriage,  but  her  reverence  for  truth  was 
paramount  to  it. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        419 

"All!"  he  exclaimed,  in  an  accent  of  surprise. 
"  Indeed  !"  he  repeated.  "  It  must  have  been,  then,  by 
something  still  more  sad — by  sin  I" 

Eula  bowed  her  head,  oppressed  by  the  humiliation 
of  another.  Mr.  Brainard  seemed  grieved,  shocked 
beyond  expression.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
with  agitated  steps.  His  emotion  appeared  so  much 
greater  than  the  occasion  justified,  that  Eula  looked  ac 
him  with  surprised  and  questioning  glance 

"My  sister,"  said  he,  addressing  her  with  the  affec- 
tionate freedom  customary  with  the  disciples  of  Wesley, 
"  forgive  me  for  exhibiting  feelings  which  are  perhaps 
unwarrantable  ;  but  I  am  so  pained,  so  distressed  at  this 
disclosure,  I  cannot  conceal  my  anguish.  Is  it,  can 
it  be  true  that  you  have  married  one  who  has  been 
divorced  ?" 

Eula,  struck  with  consternation  at  the  stern  emphasis 
on  the  word  divorced,  turned  of  ashy  paleness.  She 
felt  all  that  it  implied,  and  a  cold,  sickening  sensation 
crept  slowly  over  her.  But  immediately  her  pure,  wo- 
manly feelings,  deeply  wounded,  came  to  her  aid,  and 
enabled  her  to  lift  her  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  minister. 

"I  know  not  why  you  express  such  horror  at  thi 
communication,"  she  said,  with  dignity.  "It  certainly 
is  not  an  unexampled  case.  I  married  with  the  sanction 
of  my  parents,  sir.  One  of  the  best  and  holiest  of  men, 
a  minister  of  God,  with  the  full  knowledge  of  every 
circumstance,  pronounced  over  me  the  nuptial  benedic- 


420  the  planter's  northern  bride.' 

tion.  I  cannot  say  but  what  it  has  been  to  me  a  source 
of  regret  and  sorrow ;  but  I  expect  some  thorns  in  a 
path  clustering  with  roses.  Why  do  you  speak  as  if  I 
had  committed  sacrilege  ?  I  do  not  like  to  be  the  object 
of  such  exaggerated  emotion." 

She  rose  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when 
Brainard  interposed  himself  between  her  and  the  door. 

"I  cannot  suffer  you  to  depart  in  anger,  my  sister," 
said  he,  in  the  gentlest  and  most  persuasive  tones. 
"  The  expression  was  involuntary,  and  cannot  be  re- 
called. I  have  very  peculiar  views  on  that  subject.  I 
understand  my  Bible  differently  from  most  men.  I  have 
never,  in  my  sacred  office,  admitted  such  an  union ;  and 
hence  my  start  of  irrepressible  surprise.  But  far  be  it 
from  me  to  question  the  authority  of  those  whose  sanc- 
tion you  quote.  I  am  a  man  like  them,  of  frail  and 
fallible  judgment,  and  I  may  be  wrong.  In  my  deep 
interest  for  your  happiness  I  may  have  overstepped  the 
hounds  of  propriety.  Forgive  me  ;  forgive  a  too  ardent, 
too  impulsive  nature !" 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  said  Eula,  "though 
much  to  regret.  If  your  peculiar  views  implicate  in  the 
slightest  degree  the  honour  of  my  husband,  whose  irre- 
proachable life  is  known  to  all ;  if  they  would  sacrifice 
his  happiness  to  a  false  and  shadowy  idea,  there  can  be 
no  congeniality  in  our  sentiments,  no  Christian  fellow- 
ship or  sympathy.  I  wish  to  be  alone,  that  I  may 
recover  the  great  shock  you  have  given  me." 


J       r    Wk      A- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         421 

"Alas!"  exclaimed  the  minister,  clasping  his  hands 
and  looking  upwards ;  "  by  overmuch  zeal  I  have 
offended.  What  have  I  done  !  and  "what  can  I  do  to 
atone  for  my  indiscretion?" 

"Think  no  more  of  it,"  said  Eula,  touched  by  his 
sorrow,  and  ashamed  of  her  resentment ;  "  I  will  try  to 
forget  this  painful  interview,  and  remember  only  our 
previous  acquaintance." 

"  You  will  not  speak  of  it  to  your  husband  ?"  asked 
he,  anxiously.  "  I  would  not  for  the  world  have  him 
suppose  I  encroached  on  his  hospitality  by  interfering 
with  the  sacred  privacy  of  his  domestic  relations.  He 
might  consider  it  unpardonable ;  and  his  displeasure 
would  be  a  millstone  in  the  way  of  my  duties." 

Eula  promised  silence  and  left  him,  bearing  an  arrow 
in  her  bosom,  which  she  tried  in  vain  to  draw  out.  The 
idea  that  any  act  of  her  life  should  cause  a  Christian 
minister  such  ineffable  grief  and  horror,  however  invo- 
luntary its  expression,  was  agonizing.  Perhaps  others 
felt  the  same,  though  politeness  or  hypocrisy  led  them 
to  concealment. 

We  do  not  like  the  hackneyed  expression  of  angel,  as 
applied  to  woman.  In  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
term  it  means  nothing ;  and  yet  there  are  some  beings 
so  different  from  the  grosser  multitude,  so  apparently 
etherealized  from  the  alloy  of  earth,  we  must  distinguish 
them  by  some  epithet,  indicating  a  higher  degree  of 
purity  and  refinement  than  usually  belongs  to  woman- 


422  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

kind.  The  word  seraph  would  better  express  their  hea- 
venly attributes.  No  one  could  look  upon  Eula  without 
feeling  he  was  in  the  presence  of  one  of  these  pure  and 
holy  intelligences,  which,  though  clothed  in  humanity, 
receives  from  it  no  pollution,  but  rather  imparts  to  it  its 
own  celestial  nature.  Her  eyes,  like  stars  shining  in 
deep  waters,  brought  down  heaven  to  earth,  and  dis- 
coursed of  celestial  things.  Though  a  wife  and  mother, 
she  retained  the  expression  of  child-like,  virgin  inno- 
cence, which  gave  her  the  similitude  of  a  vestal  in  the 
white-robed  village  choir ;  and  this  expression  was  the 
mirror  of  her  soul.  Eula  was  still  a  child  in  heart,  in 
simplicity,  purity,  innocence,  and  confiding  faith  in  the 
goodness  and  truth  of  those  around  her. 

If  Brainard  had  studied  her  character  for  years,  and 
studied  too  a  refined  and  subtle  poioon,  that  would  prey 
slowly  and  surely  on  its  sensitiveness  and  delicacy,  he 
could  not  have  applied  it  more  successfully.  What  a 
pity  that  the  godly  man,  in  his  too  fastidious  piety, 
should  have  inflicted  as  keen  a  pang  as  the  utmost  art 
of  malice  could  have  invented !  She  cherished  no 
resentment  against  him ;  it  had  died  away  with  the 
breath  that  expressed  it;  but  the  look,  the  start,  the 
shudder  were  never  forgotten.  She  was  too  artless,  too 
ingenuous  to  be  able  to  disguise  all  that  she  felt;  and 
when  she  met  her  husband  he  noticed  the  shadow  on  her 
brow,  though  the  smile  trembled  on  her  lips. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE,         423 

"  Are  you  not  well,  my  Eula?"  he  asked,  with  anxious 
tenderness. 

"Perfectly  so,"  she  replied,  and  the  colour  rose  at 
once  to  confirm  the  truth  of  her  words. 

"  Something   has  happened  to  disturb   you.      Som 
little  pebble   has  ruffled    the    sunny  lake.      Have   the 
servants  troubled  you  ?     Has  Effie  been  unusually  way- 
ward?" 

uOh,  no!" 

"Perhaps  you  sigh  for  your  Northern  home;  a  little 
while,  my  dear  wife,  and  we  will  behold  it  once  more. 
Next  summer  it  will  be  three  years  since  I  transplanted 
you  to  our  Southern  bowers.  Then  you  shall  revisit 
your  native  scenes,  and  carry  our  beautiful  boy,  as  one 
of  the  noblest  specimens  of  the  products  of  our  sunny 
clime." 

He  took  the  smiling  infant  in  his  arms,  and  caressed 
it  with  all  a  father's  fondness. 

Effie,  who  had  glided  in  unperceived,  for  her  motions 
were  as  quicK  and  noiseless  as  a  bird's,  Wrapped  her 
little  arms  round  his  knees,  and  said,  in  that  sweet, 
endearing  tone  which  contrasted  so  bewitchingly  with 
her  wild  waywardness, 

"  You  don't  love  me,  papa,  as  well  as  you  do  little 
brother." 

The  truth  of  this  artless  reproach  struck  home  to  the 
heart  of  Moreland.  He  never  could  forget  that  Effie 
was  the  child  of  Claudia,  her  resemblance  to  her  was 


424  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

too  painlully  striking  ;  and,  though  he  struggled  with 
the  feelings  awakened  by  this  association,  they  still 
existed,  and  the  child  knew  it.  But  his  boy-bab}r, 
Eula's  infant,  came  to  him  a  cherub  from  the  gardens 
);  the  blest, — pure  from  all  unhallowed  remembrances, 
fresh  with  promises  of  future  joy.  How  could  he  help 
loving  it  better  than  the  only  remaining  pledge  of  his 
first  unhappy  love  ?  At  this  moment,  however,  the 
doors  of  his  heart  seemed  to  swing  open  suddenly,  to 
take  in  the  little  fascinating  being  clinging  to  him  with 
such  childish  earnestness,  and  looking  up  to  him  with 
such  a  bright,  begging  look.  Bending  down,  he  took 
her  up  with  one  arm,  and  the  two  children  were  cradled 
in  one  embrace.  Eula  was  touched  by  this  scene.  She 
had  made  use  of  every  effort  to  equalize  his  affection 
for  his  children ;  but  the  dread  canon  of  the  Almighty 
would  be  obeyed.  The  sin  of  the  mother  was  visited 
upon  her  offspring,  and  the  outraged  husband  became 
inevitably  the  alienated  father.  Eula  remembered  this 
in  her  interview  with  Mr.  Brainard,  and  it  barbed  the 
arrow  his  words  winged  into  her  bosom. 

Her  own  affection  for  Effie  was  very  deep  and  strong. 
The  surprising  alternations  she  exhibited,  the  dark 
shades,  the  brilliant  lights,  kept  her  in  a  constant  state 
of  solicitude  and  interest.  Then  her  quick  intelligence, 
her  eager,  thirsting  desire  for  knowledge,  her  reaching 
ifter  things  unknown,  her  grasping  at  the  invisible  links 
'hat  bind  matter  and  soul  together,  furnished  an  unfail- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        425 

ing  subject  for  her  mind  and  heart.  In  trying  to  teach 
Effie  something  of  the  great  mystery  of  life,  of  the 
nature  of  the  Deity  and  her  solemn  relationship  to  Him, 
she  learned  much  that  seemed  unknown  before,  and  was 
drawn  by  this  child  of  clay  to  more  intimate  communion 
with  the  Glory  of  Glories,  whose  ineffable  essence  she 
daily  sought  to  explain. 

"  This  is  as  it  should  be,  my  husband,"  said  sli3, 
gazing  on  the  charming  family-picture  before  her,  with 
moist,  approving  eyes  ;  "  never  again  justify  a  reproach 
like  that." 

"We  will  take  Effie  with  us  on  our  Northern  tour," 
said  he,  "  and  show  them  an  embryo  daughter  of  the 
sun.  Poor  Nancy  ! — I  would  she  were  alive  to  welcome 
us.  I  have  preserved  the  faded  flowers  she  left  upon 
my  pillow,  as  a  memento  of  her  grateful  affection." 

"Poor  Nancy!"  repeated  Eula,  with  a  sigh, — "yes! 
she  is  gone,  and  her  aged  mother  still  lives.  Yet  why 
do  I  say,  poor  Nancy  !  Surely  the  bosom  of  her  Saviour 
is  a  happier  resting-place  than  her  couch  of  suffering. 
Through  poverty,  sickness,  and  pain  she  has  passed,  I 
doubt  not,  into  glory  and  bliss." 

"  How  strange !"  continued  Eula,  and  she  wandered 
m  thought  through  her  far  native  vale,  "  how  strange 
and  varied  are  our  destinies !  How  little  did  I  think, 
when  I  first  met  you  in  Nancy's  cottage,  that  I  should 
be  your  wife — that  I  should  take,  as  it  were,  the  wings 
of  the  morning,  and  fly  to  this  distant  clime !     And  1 


426  [THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

have  left  those  behind  who  will  probably  never  see  the 
sun  set  beyond  their  native  horizon,  and  the  same  trees 
which  shaded  their  cradle  of  infancy  will  bend  over  therr 
graves.  Those  lilac  bushes  near  Nancy's  window  !  Do 
you  remember  them?  Methinks  their  sweet  oppressive 
odour  weighs  upon  my  senses  now  !" 

"  Our  magnolias  are  sweeter  still,"  said  Moreland. 
"  You  do  not  regret  being  borne  away  on  those  morning 
wings — do  you?" 

"  Regret !"  repeated    she,    "  never — even  if — "   she 
stopped,  hesitated,  and  turn  pale. 
."Even  if  what,  Eula  ?" 

'"Nothing,"  said  she,  hastily;  "but  of  one  thing  be 
assured,  if  all  my  future  life  were  dark  and  dreary,  I 
could  not  regret  the  unutterable  happiness  that  has  once 
been  mine." 

Moreland  looked  at  his  wife  earnestly,  and  the  con- 
viction that  she  concealed  some  feeling  from  him,  that 
she  had  some  latent  source  of  disquietude,  pained  hitn. 
There  had  always  been  such  perfect  confidence,  such  a 
transparency  of  thought  between  them,  that  a  film,  light 
as  the  gossamer's  web,  was  distinctly  seen. 

"Perhaps,"  thought  he,  "it  is  one  of  those  faint 
clouds  that  often  arise  between  the  soul  and  God. 
Brainard  has  been  sounding  the  depths  of  our  hearts, 
and  stirring  the  stagnant  waters.  She  has  been  brought 
by  self-examination  into  close  communion  with  her 
Maker,  and  even  she,  pure   and  holy  as   she   is,  must 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        427 

shrink  before  Him,  into  whose  presence  the  archangels 
come  with  veiling  wings." 

Thus  he  explained  her  thoughtful,  pensive  mood. 
Suspicion  might  glance  in  his  breast,  but,  like  the  dart 
8?  rom  tempered  steel,  it  turned  aside  without  entering. 

In  the  evening,  just  about  twilight,  when  the  family 
were  gathering  in  the  portico,  Eula  looked  round  for 
Effie,  who  generally  came  bounding  up  the  steps  at  that 
hour,  either  tricked  out  with  flowers,  or  bearing  them  in 
her  apron,  making  flowery  litter  in  her  way. 

"Where  is  Effie?"  asked  she,  of  Kizzie,  who,  since 
the  advent  of  young  Master  Russell,  had  relaxed  a  good 
deal  in  her  surveillance  of  little  missy. 

"I  saw  her  in  the  garden  about  an  hour  ago,"  was 
the  reply;  "you  know,  missus,  she  e'ena'most  lives 
there." 

This  statement  was  corroborated  by  Netty,  who  was 
sent  immediately  into  the  garden,  where  the  shrubbery 
was  high  and  dense  enough  for  a  host  of  children  to  hide 
in. 

"  She  is  playing  hide  and  go  seek  with  the  butterflies, 
I  dare  say,"  said  Moreland.  "  She  is  the  most  fearless 
child  I  ever  saw,  and  would  willingly  walk  abroad  at  mid- 
night, were  she  permitted." 

The  return  of  Netty  without  Effie  excited  some  sur- 
prise, but  not  much  alarm ;  but,  when  a  general  search 
was  instituted  through  the  house,  kitchen,  negro  cabins, 
when  voices  had  become  hoarse  calling  upon  her  name, 


428  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

and  ears  ached  with  the  intensity  of  listening  in  vain  for 
a  reply,  then  apprehension  grew  into  torture,  and  the 
wildest,  most  painful  conjectures  were  formed.  She  was 
not  in  the  habit  of  running  into  the  neighbouring  houses, 
yet  messengers  were  despatched  to  all,  to  return  without 
tidings  of  the  missing  one. 

Moreland,  who,  for  the  first  time  that  very  morning, 
had  allowed  his  parental  feelings  to  gush  forth  towards 
the  child  in  a  full,  unobstructed  stream  of  tenderness, 
was  distracted  with  anxiety.  It  was  now  dark,  and 
every  place  had  been  searched  but  one, — that  was  the 
deep  well  in  the  back  yard,  scooped  out  in  the  shadow 
of  a  giant  oak.  There  was  a  deep  curb  around  it — so 
high  that  Effie's  raven  ringlets  could  just  drip  over  the 
mossy  edge.  Moreland  snatched  a  torch  from  one  of 
the  negroes,  who  were  rushing  about  the  yard  with  blaz- 
ing lightwood  flambeaux,  exploring  every  nook  and 
corner,  and  bent  over  the  dark  abyss,  but  he  saw  nothing 
save  a  spot  of  inky  blackness  in  the  centre,  that  seemed 
at  an  interminable  distance,  and  narrowed  almost  to  a 
point.  The  water  was  very  low,  so  that,  by  descending, 
the  bottom  could  easily  be  sounded. 

"  Hold  your  torches  over  the  well,  and  light  me  as  I 
descend !"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  off  his  coat  as  he 
spoke,  and  tossing  it  on  the  arm  of  Albert. 

"My  God!"  cried  Enla,  who  was  looking  down  into 
the  same  fearful  chasm — "  Oh !  my  husband,  what  are 
you  about  to  do  !" 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        429 

"  Hinder  me  not,  Eula,  for  God's  sake  !  There  is  no 
danger:  look  at  this  triple  chain  I" 

"Let  me  entreat  you,  Mr.  Moreland,"  said  Brainard, 
"  not  to  do  anything  so  rash.  If  the  child  has  fallen  in, 
she  must  be  drowned  by  this  time.  It  is  too  late  to 
save  her !" 

"If  she  is  drowned,  she  shall  not  be  left  weltering 
there  !"  cried  the  father,  springing  into  the  inside  of  the 
curb,  and  placing  one  foot  on  the  edge  of  the  bucket, 
while  he  grasped  the  massy  chain  with  both  hands. 
"  Let  me  down  slowly,  steadily,  Albert.  Brainard,  give 
him  your  help.     Eula,  turn  away,  if  you  love  me!" 

"  Oh  !  master,  don't — don't  go  down  ! — for  Lord  Al- 
mighty's sake — for  dear  missus'  sake — don't !"  cried 
Albert,  clinging  to  the  arm  he  could  reach  with  frantic 
gestures.  "  Oh  !  dear  master,  let  me  go  !  I  heap  rather 
go  than  see  you  !" 

"Hush,  my  boy!"  exclaimed  Moreland;  "take  hold 
of  this  chain  firmly  and  steadily :  now  let  me  go  !" 

The  negroes  were  half-frantic  at  the  idea  of  their 
master's  danger ;  but  when  they  saw  his  pale,  resolute 
countenance  slowly  sinking  below  them,  they  pressed  in 
a  dark  ring  round  the  well,  and  held  their  breaths,  ir 
awful  apprehension.  Eula  spoke  not,  moved  not ;  bu 
stood  looking  down,  down,  into  that  deep  cold  grave — 
for  such  it  seemed  to  her — and  every  time  the  windlass 
turned  and  creaked  and  groaned,  her  heartstrings  would 
8+.rain  and  quiver  and  twist  themselves  in  agony  on  the 
162 


430  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

wheel.  Lower  and  lower  lie  went  down.  The  gleam  of 
the  red  torchlight  played  a  moment  on  his  dark  hair, 
but  the  shadows  extinguished  that ;  then  it  played  on 
his  white  shirt-sleeves,  which  were  at  length  all  that 
could  be  distinguished  in  the  chill  obscurity  of  the 
cavern. 

Slowly,  steadily,  Albert !  Take  care  ;  the  chain  gives 
a  sudden  jerk,  a  horrible  clank,  and  the  bucket  rebounds 
against  the  rocky  walls  !  It  swings  from  side  to  side  ; 
it  rights  itself  at  last !  Now  strain  every  sinew :  thy 
master  committed  his  safety  into  thy  hands — and  such  a 
master ! 

Hark  !  hear  that  splashing  sound  !  He  has  reached 
the  water ;  he  is  searching  in  its  cold  wave  for  his 
drowned  child,  but  he  finds  her  not !  He  gives  the 
signal  for  ascending.  And  now  the  wheel  makes  more 
rapid  evolutions,  in  spite  of  the  weight  that  impedes  its 
motions.  The  windlass  creaks  and  groans,  but  the 
sound  is  less  doleful.  The  red  torchlight  gleams  once 
more  on  a  mass  of  dark-waving  hair ;  a  pale  counte- 
nance receives  the  ruddy  illumination.  At  length  the 
whole  form  is  visible,  behind  the  massy  glittering  chain, 
which  the  white-clad  arms  are  wreathed  around. 

"Eula!"  he  exclaimed,  springing  from  the  curb,  and 
throwing  his  cold,  dripping  arms  round  his  wife,  "  Thank 
God,  she  is  not  there  !" 

Eula  gave  a  short,  quick  gasp,  and  fell  forward  on  his 
bosom.     She  had  fainted. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         431 

The  mysterious  disappearance  of  the  child,  the  danger 
to  which,  the  father  had  exposed  himself,  the  sudden 
fainting  of  Eula,  circumstances  so  exciting  in  them- 
selves, were  sufficient  when  combined  to  create  inde- 
scribable confusion  and  dismay.  The  negroes  were 
perfectly  beside  themselves ;  tossed  from  one  billow  of 
emotion  to  another  with  such  frightful  rapidity.  Their 
mingled  ejaculations  of  "Oh!  little  missy!"  "Oh!  my 
massa  !"  and  "  Oh  !  missus  !"  accompanied  by  sobs  and 
wringing  of  hands,  were  quite  heart-rending.  Even  old 
Dicey  came  tottering  from  her  cabin  to  join  in  the  gene- 
ral bewailing.  Ildegerte,  the  moment  she  saw  her 
brother  spring  upon  the  well-curb,  had  rushed  into  the 
house,  and  throwing  herself  upon  her  knees,  awaited  in 
loneliness  and  silence  the  issue  of  the  awful  moment. 

"Oh!  let  me  not  look  on  death  again!"  she  cried, 
— burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut  the  appal- 
ling vision  from  her  view, — "  I've  seen  it  all  terribly 
dyed  in  blood, — terrible  must  it  be,  in  the  dark,  whelm- 
ing waters !" 

She  was  not,  however,  doomed  to  look  on  death ;  but 
its  semblance,  in  the  pallid  face  and  insensible  form 
of  Eula,  which  Moreland  bore  into  the  hall.  The 
swoon,  however,  was  of  short  continuance, — Eula  reco- 
vered to  mourn  for  the  lost  and  rejoice  over  the  spared. 
Little  Effie  was  almost  forgotten,  while  the  lives  of 
Moreland  and  Eula  were  endangered;  but  now  her 
claims  to  remembrance  asserted  themselves  with  new 


432  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

power.  There  was  no  clue  to  thread  the  labyrinth  of 
conjecture,  in  which  thought  was  lost.  Had  Claudia 
been  in  the  vicinity,  it  might  be  supposed  that  she  had 
stolen  her  from  her  home ;  but  she  had  been  absent 
during  the  past  year,  —  gone  to  Italy,  her  mother's 
native  country, — and,  it  was  said,  never  to  return. 
When  silence  had  settled  down  on  the  stormy  emotions 
of  the  household,  and  they  were  all  gathered  in  the 
hall,  where  Eula  lay  extended  on  a  couch,  the  low, 
sweet  voice  of  Brainard  uttered  the  simple,  solemn 
words, 

"Let  us  pray." 

With  a  simultaneous  movement  they  all  knelt,  while 
Brainard  poured  out  his  soul  in  the  fervour  of  intense 
devotion.  Like  frankincense  rising  from  a  golden  cen- 
ser, his  prayer  arose,  and  the  air  seemed  perfumed  with 
the  odours  of  heaven.  He  prayed  to  Him  who  was 
once  a  babe  in  the  manger,  who  took  little  children  in 
his  arms  and  blessed  them,  to  watch  over  the  missing 
lamb,  and  bring  it  back  in  safety  to  the  fold.  Every 
one  was  comforted,  and,  though  no  trace  of  Effie  was 
discovered,  they  looked  forward  with  hope  to  the  mor- 
row. 

The  morrow  came,  but  not  the  lost  one.  Messengers 
were  despatched  into  the  country,  far  and  near ;  adver- 
tisements inserted  in  every  paper,  with  offers  of  munifi- 
cent reward  ;  placards  were  put  up  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous parts  of  the  city,  but  no  tidings  came  of  the 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  433 

lost  child.  The  last  time  she  was  seen,  like  the  lovely 
Proserpine  m  the  vale  of  Enna,  when  borne  off  by  the 
terrible  Pluto,  she  was  gathering  flowers,  and  twining 
them  in  garlands,  probably  for  her  sweet  mamma,  as 
she  always  called  her  lovely  stepmother.  The  withered 
wreaths  were  found  trailing  in  the  garden  walks,  as  if 
suddenly  thrown  down.  Eula  bedewed  them  with  her 
tears.  Wherever  she  turned,  she  saw  something  that 
reminded  her  of  the  pet,  the  fairy,  the  darling  of  the 
household.  There  was  a  waxen  doll,  lying  on  one  side, 
with  one  arm  amputated,  and  one  blue  eye  fearfully 
gouged,  witness  of  EfBe's  destructive  propensity, — and, 
on  the  other,  innumerable  gilded  playthings,  scattered 
in  glittering  profusion,  and  mingled  with  faded  blos- 
soms. 

Had  the  child  sickened  and  died, — had  they  laid  her 
down  in  the  quiet  grave,  and  seen  the  green  turf  heaved 
up  over  her  clay-cold  breast,  they  would  have  wept,  it  is 
true ;  but  submission  would  have  arisen  from  the  dread 
certainty  of  death.  But  the  fearful  incertitude  of  her 
fate  caused  a  gloom  deeper  than  the  dark  flapping  of  the 
funeral  pall. 

One  day,  Albert  came  in  with  Effie's  little  white 
muslin  sun-bonnet  in  his  hand,  no  longer  white,  and  all 
torn  with  thorns  and  stained  with  green  ;  yet,  still  it 
was  recognised  as  hers.  He  had  found  it  swinging  from 
the  bough  of  a  low  tree,  in  the  woods  skirting  the  road 
that  led  to   the   plantation,   several   miles  from   town. 


4C-i  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Here  was  fresh  food  for  conjecture.  The  child  could 
not  have  wandered  so  far  by  herself.  The  Indians  no 
longer  lurked  in  ambush,  among  the  deep  pines,  for  the 
capture  of  helpless  innocence.  The  wild  beasts  of  the 
forest  no  longer  prowled  in  the  wilderness  to  seek  whom 
they  might  devour.  There  was  a  half-crazy,  half-idiot 
negro  in  the  city — but  this  was  a  thought  too  horrible — 
it  was  crushed  in  the  birth.  The  plantation  had  already 
been  searched ;  indeed,  everything  possible  had  been 
done,  yet  no  gleam  of  light  had  illuminated  the  obscu- 
rity that  shrouded  her  fate. 

"  Would  you  be  reconciled  to  her  loss  if  her  own  mo- 
ther had  claimed  her — supposing  an  impossible  case?" 
asked  Urainard  of  Eula. 

"No!"  replied  she,  shuddering  at  the  recollection  of 
Claudia's  ungovernable  temper  and  stormy  passions. 
"I  believe  her  death  would  cause  me  less  sorrow.  If 
dead,  she  is  in  the  arms  of  her  Saviour,— but  with  such  a 
mother,  such  an  example,  she  would  live  alone  for  misery 
and  sin." 

"And  yet,"  said  Brainard,  thoughtfully,  "nothing 
can  cancel  a  mother's  claims  to  her  child.  She  has 
bought  it  by  sufferings  known  only  to  her  God,  and  no 
human  laws  can  annul  her  sacred  rights.  The  beasts 
of  the  fields  and  the  fowls  of  the  air  vindicate  the  de- 
mands of  maternity  with  the  most  terrible  ferocity, — and 
shall  we  deny  to  human  affection  what  we  yield  to  the 
instinct  of  brutes  ?" 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  435 

"Do  you  think  it  wrong,  under  any  circumstances,  to 
■withhold  a  child  from  its  mother  ?"  asked  Eula,  remem- 
bering Claudia's  agonizing  supplications  for  her  child, 
which  she  had  resisted  with  such  a  painful  effort. 

"I  do!"  replied  the  minister.  "I  am  sorry  you 
asked  me  the  question,  for  the  answer  may  wound  your 
feelings  ;  but  truth  is  omnipotent.  I  have  told  you  that 
my  views  do  not  conform  to  the  common  code  of  laws 
and  morals.  I  think  I  can  see  the  hand  of  God  stretched 
out  in  retribution,  in  snatching  this  idol  from  your  arms. 
It  was  not  yours.  You  had  no  legitimate  claim  to  it, 
and  He  who  gave  it  to  the  bosom  that  yearned  over  it, 
with  nature's  strong  desirings,  has  taken  it  to  Himself, 
that  He  may  confirm  His  immutable  justice  and  sove- 
reign will." 

Again  Eula  felt  the  barb  of  the  arrow,  and  she  pressed 
her  hand  involuntarily  on  her  bosom. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  dear  sister !"  said  he,  kindly  and 
soothingly.  "You  are  too  sensitive.  I  would  not  for 
the  world  accuse  you  of  voluntary  wrong.  You  have 
been  the  victim  of  circumstances,  and  your  affections 
have  triumphed  over  the  decisions  of  judgment.  My 
object  is  not  to  give  you  pain,  but  to  reconcile  you  to  a 
just  and  irrevocable  decree." 

Eula  spoke  not  to  her  husband  of  this  conversation 
with  Brainard.  Judging  of  his  feelings  by  her  own,  she 
knew  it  would  give  him  pain,  and  probably  excite  his 


436  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

displeasure  against  the  minister,  whose   opinions   con- 
demned his  conduct. 

It  was  singular,  but,  with  all  her  reverence  for  Brain- 
ard's  talents,  zeal,  and  piety,  she  never  entered  his 
presence  without  an  uncomfortable  and  oppressive  feel- 
ing. She  was  dissatisfied  with  herself  for  her  coldness 
and  inward  recoiling.  She  did  not  like  to  meet  the 
glance  of  his  soft  blue  eyes,  which  always  fell  instan- 
taneously before  the  beam  of  hers,  neither  did  she  like 
to  see  them  raised,  as  they  so  often  were,  in  silent  ap- 
peal to  heaven.  She  hated  herself  for  all  this,  but  she 
could  no  more  help  it  than  the  instinctive  throbbing  of 
her  heart.  Ever  since  his  arrival  (and  he  had  been  do- 
mesticated with  them  several  weeks),  the  household 
seemed  changed.  The  servants,  carried  away  by  their 
religious  enthusiasm,  hurried  over  their  duties,  or  per- 
formed them  with  a  less  willing  spirit.  She  could  hardly 
refer  to  any  particular  violation  of  obedience  or  respect, 
yet  she  felt  a  change.  But,  as  usual,  she  blamed  her- 
self, rather  than  others.  Perhaps  she  was  becoming 
selfish  and  exacting.  She  would  watch  herself  more 
closely,  and  beware  of  self-indulgence  and  captiousness. 

One  evening,  after  supper  was  over,  and  she  had,  as 
usual,  retired  to  the  nursery,  she  found  the  baby  restless, 
and,  as  she  imagined,  feverish  and  unwell.  She  did  not 
feel  well  herself,  and  waited,  in  some  anxiety,  the  coming 
of  Kizzie  from  her  supper.  When  she  entered,  the 
clean,  starched  white   apron   and    bright   headkerchief 


[the  planter's  northern  bride.  487 

denoted  a  preparation  for  going  out.  Brainard  was  to 
preach ;  but  he  did  so  every  evening,  and  Eula  thought  it 
would  be  imposing  no  hardship  on  Kizzie  to  detain  her 
at  home,  especially  as  Moreland  was  absent. 

"Did  you  think  of  going  to  church  to-night,  Kizzie  ?" 
.  he  asked.  "  Little  Russell  is  so  unwell  I  would  rather 
you  would  not  leave  me.  I  have  a  bad  headache  my- 
self, also." 

"La,  missus!  there  is  nothing  the  matter  with  him, 
just  wakeful;  that's  all.     He'll  go  to  sleep  directly." 

"I  do  not  feel  able  to  take  care  of  him  to-night, 
Kizzie.     I  want  you  to  stay." 

"  Won't  Netty  do,  missus  ?  I  'specially  anxious  to 
go  this  time.  Mars.  Brainard  going  to  the  plantation 
soon.  There's  to  be  great  preaching  to-night.  Every 
'vidual  will  be  there  but  me." 

"Netty  has  no  experience,  and  I  am  sure  the  child 
is  sick ;  but  you  may  go  if  you  cannot  willingly  remain 
I  will  try  to  take  care  of  him." 

Her  heart  swelled  and  choked  her  words.  She  was 
not  willing  that  Kizzie  should  see  how  much  she  was 
wounded  by  her  reluctance  to  fulfil  a  positive  duty. 
She  might  have  commanded  her  to  stay;  but  her  natural 
gentleness  restrained  the  exercise  of  just  authority. 
Pressing  her  baby  to  her  breast,  she  bent  her  cheek  to 
its  velvet  one,  and  tried  to  hush  its  unwonted  cries. 
Her  lip  quivered,  and  a  tear  dropped  on  the  infant's 
warm  temples.     She  was  very  childish — but  Kizzie  had 


438  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

always  seemed  so  self-sacrificing,  so  devotedly  attached 
to  her  and  the  child,  she  could  not  help  feeling  dis- 
tressed. 

"If  you  insist  on  nay  staying,  missus,"  said  Kizzie, 
folding  her  fat  fingers  over  her  waist,  without  offering  to 
take  the  child,  "  of  course  I'll  give  up  the  preaching. 
But  maybe  it'll  cost  me  my  soul,  missus.  I  feel  kinder 
awful  to-night.  The  Sperrit  tells  me  I  oughtn't  to  stay, 
when  I  might  git  the  blessing." 

"  Go,  then,  Kizzie,  and  say  no  more  about  it." 

"I'll  send  Netty." 

"  I  don't  wish  Netty.     I  had  rather  be  alone." 

She  spoke  falteringly,  impatiently,  and  Kizzie  turned 
to  the  door.  She  laid  her  hand  lingeringly  on  the  latch, 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  opened  and  closed  the  door, 
and  Eula  was  left  alone  with  her  infant. 

"  What  is  the  reason,"  thought  she,  walking  backward 
and  forward  the  length  of  her  chamber,  for  she  was  too 
much  agitated  to  sit  still,  "  what  is  the  reason,  that  ever 
since  this  man  has  been  here,  I  have  felt  my  happiness 
insensibly  diminish  ?  What  is  the  silent,  invisible  influ- 
ence he  is  exerting,  that  is  so  fatal  to  my  peace  ?  He 
has  gradually  assumed  the  empire  of  the  household,  and 
making  us  secondary  agents  in  it.  Would  he  had  never 
come  among  us  f  And  yet,  how  wicked  I  am  to  breathe 
such  a  wish  !  Surely  he  is  a  man  of  God  !  What  mo- 
tive but  pure,  evangelical  religion  could  induce  him  to 
devote  his  splendid  talents  to  such  a  lowly  cause  ?     The 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         439 

very  incident  which  has  so  deeply  wounded  me,  is  only 
a  proof  of  his  Christian  influence  !  How  selfish  I  am, 
to  grudge  poor  Kizzie  this  little  gratification !  Oh ! 
how  often  has  my  own  dear  mother  rocked  me,  a  weep- 
ing infant,  in  her  arms,  when  there  was  no  one  near  to 
relieve  her  of  the  burden  of  care.  Lie  still,  my  darling 
baby  ;  hush,  my  own  little  Russell !" 

But  the  little  Russell  would  not  lie  still;  he  writhed 
in  her  embracing  arms ;  and  the  more  she  caressed  the 
more  bitterly  he  cried.  At  length,  very  weary  with  her 
vain  efforts  to  soothe  him,  she  seated  herself  in  a  rocking- 
chair,  and  began  to  sing  that  sweet  cradle  hymn,  that 
holy  lullaby,  which  has  been  so  often  breathed  over  the 
couch  of  infancy: 

4i  Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and  slumbei, 
Holy  angels  guard  thy  bed  ; 
Heavenly  blessings  without  number 
Gently  fall  upon  thy  head." 

As  the  charming  voice  of  the  young  mother  warbled 
in  the  ear  of  the  child,  its  moanings  ceased,  and  looking 
up  in  her  face,  it  smiled  with  that  heavenly  sweetness 
of  expression  never  seen  save  on  the  lip  of  infant  inno- 
cence. Ah !  where  is  the  mother  who  is  not  repaid  for 
a  thousand  pangs  by  one  such  angelic  smile  ?  It  passed 
away,  however,  as  quick  as  a  sunbeam,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  a  feverish  restlessness  that  defied  all  her 
soothing  arts.  Never  had  Eula  spent  so  weary  an 
evening.     She  would  not  call  on  Ildegerte  for  aid.     She 


440  the  planter's  northern  bride 

had  the  natural  pride  of  wishing  to  bear  her  own  pecu- 
liar trials.  She  wanted  Kizzie  to  see,  when  she  re- 
turned, how  much  trouble  she  had  caused.  She  wanted 
her  to  feel  sorry  for  having  left  her. 

By  and  by,  when  her  arms  drooped  with  their  burden, 
and  refused  to  sustain  it  any  longer,  she  laid  the  child 
in  the  cradle,  and  kneeling  by  it,  continued  to  sing 
another  verse  of  the  divine  song — ■ 

"  Soft  and  easy  is  thy  cradle; 

Coarse  and  hard  thy  Saviour  lay — 
For  his  birth-place  was  a  stable, 
And  his  softest  bed  was  hay." 

Again  that  heavenly  smile.  Then  the  beautiful,  inno- 
cent eyes  gently  closed,  and,  like  stars  withdrawing 
behind  a  white,  fleecy  cloud,  grew  dim  in  slumber. 
Eula,  fearful  of  disturbing  him  by  rising,  slid  from  her 
knees  in  a  reclining  position  on  the  floor,  and  still  keep- 
ing one  arm  around  him,  lay  with  her  head  bending  over 
him,  watching  his  gentle  breathing.  In  this  attitude 
she  unconsciously  fell  asleep  herself;  and  thus  Moreland 
found  her  when,  having  transacted  the  business  that 
called  him  away,  he  returned  to  his  home. 

He  paused  by  the  cradle  to  contemplate  the  beautiful 
picture,  so  dear  to  a  husband's  and  father's  heart.  The 
light,  subdued  by  its  crystal  shade,  fell  with  moonlight 
softness  on  the  slumbering  pair.  The  cheeks  of  the 
infant  were  flushed  with  a  deep  rose  bloom  ;  the  mother's 
as  fair  and  spotless  as  the  petals  of  the  lily.     The  hair 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         441 

of  Eula  bung  loose  and  floating  over  the  side  of  the 
cradle,  and  swept  the  floor  in  bright  hazel  waves.  Her 
attitude  was  the  perfection  of  reposing  grace,  though  it 
expressed  weariness  and  self-abandonment.  He  thought 
of  the  virgin  mother  and  the  infant  Jesus ;  and  holding 
his  breath  as  he  gazed,  continued  to  drink  in  their 
beauty,  till  his  whole  soul  was  steeped  in  tenderness  and 
delight.  Then  he  wondered  at  finding  her  thus  alone 
with  the  child,  evidently  overcome  with  watching  and 
fatigue ;  and  kneeling  down  by  her,  he  put  his  arms 
round  her,  and  raised  her  from  her  recumbent  position. 

"Eulalia,  my  Eula,"  he  cried,  "why  do  I  find  you 
thus  ?  You  should  not  recline  on  the  floor,  with  the 
night-air  flowing  in  on  every  side." 

It  was  some  time  before  she  could  rouse  herself  to  a 
consciousness  of  her  situation ;  then  she  smiled,  and 
explained  the  cause  of  her  uneasiness. 

"  You  should  not  have  permitted  Kizzie  to  leave  you," 
said  he.  "  I  shall  not  allow  this  to  happen  again.  I 
fear  they  are  all  taking  advantage  of  your  mildness  and 
indulgence.  But  I  shall  prevent  any  future  encroach- 
ment." 

"  Do  not  blame  Kizzie.  I  told  her  she  might  go.  It 
is  my  fault  entirely.  If  the  baby  had  slept,  I  should 
not  have  missed  her.  Mr.  Brainard  is  going  away,  you 
know,  and  the  same  temptation  will  not  occur  again." 

"Yes,  he  goes  to-morrow,  I  believe,  and  I  do  not 
regret  it.     I  would  not  like  to  have  this  excitement  con- 


442  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

tinue  much  longer.  The  imagination  of  the  negro  is  Sr« 
powerful,  that  when  it  once  gains  the  ascendancy,  it  ia 
almost  impossible  for  reason  to  exercise  the  least  sway. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  Kizzie  believed  her  soul  would  be 
endangered  by  staying  away  from  that  meeting  to-night. 
Brainard  is  really  a  wonderful  man.  He  has  nights  of 
eloquence  that  bear  the  soul  up  to  heaven  itself.  I  do 
not  wonder  at  all  at  the  hold  he  has  taken  of  the  sus- 
ceptible and  believing  Africans.  And  yet,  Eula,  strange 
as  it  may  seem  to  you,  I  do  not  like  the  man.  I  feel  a 
sensation  of  relief  in  thinking  of  his  approaching  depar- 
ture. I  feel  what  our  poor  little  lost  Effie  so  innocently, 
yet  rudely  expressed.  I  am  conscious  of  an  antagonism, 
for  which  I  cannot  account." 

"  Is  it  indeed  so  ?"  said  Eula.  "  It  is  thus  I  feel,  and 
reproach  myself  bitterly  for  want  of  Christian  sympathy 
and  regard." 

"  Well !  it  is  strange ;  but  as  we  feel  alike,  there 
must  be  some  inexplicable  cause.  Perhaps  the  attrac- 
tion which  draws  him  to  the  negroes,  proves  a  repulsion 
to  us.  I  think  he  will  do  a  great  deal  of  good  on  the 
plantation ;  and  as  they  are  just  now  destitute  of  a 
preacher,  I  could  not  possibly  refuse  his  offered  services. 
He  says  he  does  not  wish  any  remuneration ;  but  of 
course  I  shall  liberally  reward  him.  There  is  one  thing 
of  which  I  am  assured :  he  has  very  just  views  of  slavery, 
and  looks  upon  it,  as  it  now  exists,  rather  as  a  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  than  as  an  institution  established  by 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         413 

ourselves.  He  deprecates  the  mad  zeal  which  would 
involve  by  premature  efforts  our  country  in  ruin,  and 
condemns,  without  reservation,  the  insidious  attacks  of 
those  who  endeavour  to  undermine  what  they  cannot 
openly  destroy." 

"I  have  one  consolation,"  said  Eula:  "whatever  are 
my  father's  sentiments,  he  glories  in  their  avowal.  If 
he  be  an  opponent,  he  comes  forth  to  battle  in  the 
noonday.     He  never  seeks  the  midnight  shade." 

"  You  are  right,  Eula ;  your  father  is  a  manly  enemy 
and  a  sincere  one ;  an  unprejudiced  one,  I  cannot  say 
he  is.  It  is  one  of  the  rarest  things  in  the  world,  to  see 
a  man  who  looks  upon  the  differing  phases  of  the  social 
system  with  an  impartial  eye.  Dr.  Darley  is  one.  What 
a  head,  what  a  soul,  what  a  heart  he  has  !  I  never  think 
of  him,  without  feeling  my  respect  and  admiration  for 
mankind  exalted.  Just  as  strongly  as  I  was  repelled 
by  Brainard,  at  first  sight,  was  I  attracted  to  Dr.  Dar- 
ley. It  seemed  as  if  my  being  became  incorporated 
with  his." 

"He  is,  indeed,  a  fascinating  and  remarkable  man," 
replied  Eula.  "  How  kind  it  was  in  him  to  take  charge 
of  Crissy,  when  he  travelled  South  this  spring ;  and  how 
very  kind  it  was  in  him  to  find  her  a  good  and  com- 
fortable home  during  her  stay  in  the  West !  Then,  what 
a  friend  to  Ildegerte  !  I  do  not  wonder  that  her  rever- 
ence for  his  character  approaches  to  worship." 


444  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

Moreland  and  Eulalia  were  right.  There  are  few 
such  men  as  Dr.  Darley ;  but,  for  the  honour  and  glory 
of  humanity,  there  are  a  few  such,  who,  even  while 
walking  through  the  Sardis  of  this  world,  defile  not  the 
whiteness  of  their  garments  with  the  slime  of  prejudice 
or  the  dark  stains  of  passion. 


GHAPTEK    XVII. 

We  return  to  the  plantation,  where  the  missionary, 
Brainard,  is  now  established  in  the  full  plenitude  of  his 
ministerial  power. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  enthusiasm  which  he  in- 
spired in  the  simple-hearted  community  in  which  he 
was  introduced.  He  told  them  that  he  had  come  all 
the  way  from  the  North,  actuated  by  love  for  their  poor, 
despised  race ;  that  he  had  given  up  home  and  friends, 
fame,  wealth,  and  honourable  position,  to  claim  brother- 
hood with  them,  and  preach  to  them  of  the  riches  of 
redeeming  love.  He  told  them  that  he  loved  his  white 
brethren ;  but  far  better  he  loved  the  dark  and  lowly 
African, — loved  him,  because,  like  his  Saviour,  he  was 
despised  and  rejected  of  men,  and  there  was  no  comeli- 
ness in  him  that  men  should  desire  him ;  that  he  had 
come  to  distil  the  dews  of  divine  love  on  the  root  of  a 
dry  ground,  and  make  it  a  green  and  blossoming  plant, 
whose  leaflets  should  reach  into  heaven.  The  negroes 
listened,  and  thought  an  angel  was  before  them,  sent  by 
163  445 


446  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  Almighty,  for  the  ransom  of  their  souls.  Every 
night  the  log  chapel  was  crowded,  and  the  meeting  kept 
up  beyond  the  midnight  hour.  The  minister  seemed 
incapable  of  fatigue.  He  rose  with  the  dawn  of  day, 
and,  long  after  the  negroes  had  retired  to  their  cabins, 
his  lamp  glimmered  through  the  windows,  or  his  figure 
was  seen  gliding  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 

The  overseer,  fatigued  with  the  labours  of  the  day, 
usually  retired  to  rest  at  an  early  hour,  while  Brainard 
assumed  the  responsibility  of  seeing  order  and  quietude 
established  in  the  negro  quarters.  As  he  was  invested 
with  the  sanctity  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  the 
authority  of  a  man  employed  and  recommended  by  the 
master,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  confide  in  him  with  im- 
plicit trust. 

Brainard  stood  on  an  elevated  platform,  reminding 
one  of  a  picture  where  a  figure  is  seen  rising  above  a 
mass  of  dark-rolling  clouds,  he,  the  only  point  of  light 
in  that  black  assembly.  An  unusual  solemnity  pervaded 
the  audience.  He  had  promised  them  a  sermon  adapted 
to  their  own  condition.  He  had  promised  to  tell 
them  of  an  ancient  people,  whose  lot  resembled  their 
own.  Opening  the  Bible,  he  read,  in  a  voice  of  plain- 
tive melody,  the  one  hundredth  and  thirty-seventh 
psalm : — 

" '  By  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we  sat  down  and 
wept,  yea,  we  wept  when  we  remembered  Zion. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        447 

"  '  We  hanged  our  harps  upon  the  willows  in  the  midst 
thereof. 

" '  For  there,  they  that  carried  us  away  captive  re- 
quired of  us  a  song ;  and  they  that  wasted  us  required 
of  us  mirth ;  saying,  Sing  us  one  of  the  songs  of  Zion. 

"  '  How  shall  we  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  Strang? 
land? 

"  '  Oh  !  daughter  of  Babylon,  who  art  to  be  destroyed , 
happy  shall  he  be  that  rewardeth  thee,  as  thou  hast 
served  us  !'  " 

Closing  the  book  and  looking  earnestly  on  the  serious, 
upturned  faces  before  him,  he  began  to  describe,  in  sim- 
ple, but  expressive  language,  the  sorrows  of  captivity, 
the  sad  doom  of  the  exile.  He  described  the  Babylonish 
slave,  weeping  beneath  the  willow's  weeping  boughs, 
while  his  neglected  harp-strings  responded  only  to  the 
mournful  gale.  He  painted  him  as  writhing  under  the 
scourge  of  him  who  carried  him  into  captivity,  and  who, 
in  mockery  of  his  despair,  called  for  songs  of  joy  and 
mirth,  in  the  midst  of  desolation  and  woe.  Having 
wrought  up  their  susceptible  feelings,  by  an  eloquence 
which  they  only  partly  understood,  he  changed  the  scene 
to  their  native  Africa,  and  carried  them  in  imagination 
to  the  green  banks  of  the  Niger,  where  the  shadow  of 
the  lofty  palm  tree  is  reflected  in  its  clear  dark  waters. 
He  painted  the  negro,  not  degraded,  benighted,  and 
imbruted  as  he  really  is,  in  his  native  land,  plunged  in 
the  lowest  depths  of  sensuality  and  heathenism,  but  wan- 


448  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

tiering  in  all  the  glory  of  freedom,  in  his  beautiful  tro- 
pic regions,  the  lord  and  king  of  all  the  boundless  wealth 
of  nature  spread  out  around  him.  Then  he  drew  a 
thrilling  sketch  of  his  being  torn  from  his  country  and 
home,  deprived  of  his  glorious  privileges  and  lofty  inhe- 
ritance by  the  hand  of  rapine,  and  doomed  to  a  life  of 
slavery  and  wretchedness.  He  paused  not  till  he  had 
created  the  wildest  excitement  and  confusion.  Groans 
mingled  with  shouts,  and  sobs  with  loud  hosannas.  Un- 
cle Paul,  who  sat  near  the  pulpit,  though  he  made  no 
boisterous  exhibition  of  his  feelings,  took  in  every  word 
with  breathless  attention.  He  arose  and  drew  as  near 
as  possible  to  the  platform.  He  seemed  to  be  mag- 
netised by  the  preacher.  Every  time  Brainard  waved  his 
arm  in  the  energy  of  speaking,  Uncle  Paul  waved  his  in 
response.  If  he  bowed  his  head  to  give  emphasis  to  his 
words,  Uncle  Paul  would  bow  his  likewise.  The  negro 
preacher  was  tall  and  brawny,  and  his  large,  swelling 
muscles  heaved  visibly  under  his  checked  cotton  shirt. 
His  collar  was  left  unbuttoned,  displaying  the  working 
sinews  of  his  neck,  and  the  grizzly  beard  that  bristled 
round  his  chin.  His  head  was  covered  with  a  thick 
fleece  of  coal-black  wool,  white  as  snow  on  the  surface, 
but,  whenever  it  parted,  showing  the  hue  of  ink.  His 
forehead  retreated  under  this  woolly  thatch,  like  the 
slanting  roof  of  a  building,  while  the  flattened  nose,  large, 
spreading    nostrils,    ash-coloured    and  protruding   lips, 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  449 

opening  on  rows  of  strong,  unbroken  ivory,  proclaimed 
the  legitimate  son  of  Africa. 

When  the  congregation  was  dismissed,  they  gathered 
in  knots  round  the  door,  to  talk  about  the  wonderful 
sermon,  and  ask  each  other  what  it  meant,  and  what  was 
going  to  follow. 

Paul  stood  just  where  he  was  in  front  of  the  preacher, 
gazing  in  his  face  and  waiting  his  every  motion.  When 
he  descended  from  the  pulpit,  Paul  walked  by  his  side 
to  the  door  of  the  chapel.  They  went  out  together  and 
walked  in  silence,  till  they  left  the  enclosure  bounded 
by  the  cabins,  and  entered  a  path  that  led  into  the 
woods. 

"Massa  preacher,"  said  Paul,  as  soon  as  he  thought 
they  were  out  of  the  hearing  of  the  rest,  "  I  want  to 
talk  with  you.  I  can't  go  to  sleep  till  I  hear  you 
'xplain  some  of  the  difficulties  of  my  comprehension." 

"  Wait,  my  brother,  till  we  reach  a  more  convenient 
place  than  this,"  answered  Brainard;  "follow  me,  and 
I  will  make  every  difficult  place  easy,  and  every  rough 
one  smooth." 

He  threaded  the  wild-wood  path,  dark  with  the 
shadows  of  a  moonless  night,  till  they  came  to  a  small 
opening,  where  the  blacksmith's  shop  stood,  isolated  from 
the  other  buildings  of  the  plantation.  Just  behind  it,  a 
gnarled  and  blasted  oak,  twisted  off  near  its  base  by  the 
whirlwind's    breath,   lay  upon    the    earth.      Brainard 


450  tite  planter's  northern  bride. 

seated  himself  on  the  rough,  knotted  trunk,  and  mo- 
tioned Paul  to  take  a  seat  by  his  side." 

"No,  massa,"  said  the  negro.  "If  you  please,  I'll 
stand  just  where  I  be.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  more 
'bout  that  sermon,  that's  tingling  in  my  ears  as  if  some- 
ting  had  stung  'em.  I  never  hearn  afore  Africa  such  a 
great  country.     I  thought  this  a  heap  better." 

"My  poor  fellow!"  exclaimed  Brainard,  "you  have 
been  brought  up  in  ignorance  and  deception.  You  know 
nothing  beyond  your  master's  fields,  which  you  enrich 
by  the  sweat  of  your  brow.  Born  in  bondage,  fettered, 
manacled,  and  enslaved,  you  are  made  to  drag  out  a 
hopeless,  joyless  existence,  ten  thousand  times  more 
degraded  than  the  beasts  of  the  field,  for  the  birthright 
of  immortality  is  not  theirs.  Are  you  a  man,  and  will- 
ing to  submit  to  this  disgrace  and  shame ;  this  outrage 
to  humanity ;  this  robbery  of  your  dearest,  most  sacred 
rights?" 

"Now,  massa,"  said  Paul,  after  a  short  pause,  in 
which  he  could  see  the  blue  eyes  of  Brainard  glittering 
like  burnished  steel  in  the  clear  starlight,  "  I  thought  I 
mighty  well  off  till  I  hearn  you  say  I  ain't.  I  got  a 
kind,  good  massa,  that  neber  said  a  thing  he  oughtn't 
to,  nor  did  a  thing  he  oughtn't  to.  He  neber  made  me 
work  harder  than  my  conscience  telled  me  was  right. 
He  gives  me  good  clothes,  good  vittles,  and  never  spited 
me  in  no  manner  of  ways.  When  he  was  a  leetle  boy 
lie  larned  me  how  to  read  the  Bible ;  and  though  he 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        451 

ben't  a  preacher,  he  can  talk  beautifully  from  Scripter. 
He  neber  made  me  a  slave ;  he  neber  bought  me ;  he 
neber  will  sell  me.  I  was  born  on  his  grandfather's 
plantation.  I  belonged  to  his  father,  and  so  slipped 
through  God's  hands  into  hisn." 

"That  you  have  believed  all  this  I  cannot  wonder," 
said  the  minister,  in  a  commiserating  tone ;  "  but  the 
time  is  come  when  you  must  learn  greater,  better  things  ; 
when  you  must  realize  what  you  are,  what  you  may  be, 
and  what  you  ought  to  be.  I  am  come,  commissioned 
by  the  Almighty,  to  teach  you  how  to  rend  asunder  the 
iron  chains  of  servitude,  and  secure  the  glorious  privi- 
leges of  freemen.  I  appeal  to  you,  because  I  see  well 
that  you  are  the  most  intelligent  of  the  number  I  see 
around  me,  and  better  capable  of  understanding  me. 
If  you  choose  you  can  be  free — you  can  make  all  your 
brethren  free.  Instead  of  being  slaves,  you  can  be  men. 
You  have  but  to  will  it ;  the  means  are  certain.  You 
have  friends  at  the  North  ready  to  assist  you,  and  place 
you  upon  perfect  equality  with  themselves.  I  have  been 
labouring  in  your  behalf,  wherever  I  have  been.  I  have 
been  sowing  broadcast  the  seeds  of  freedom,  that  you 
may  reap  a  golden  harvest.  Will  you  not  put  in  your 
sickle  and  reap,  or  will  you  lie,  like  a  coward,  on  youi 
back,  and  let  the  ploughshare  cut  through  your  vitals  ?" 

"  Oh,  massa,  you  talk  mighty  grand,  and  I  know  you 
means  right,  and  we  ought  to  be  much  obleeged  for  your 
thoughts  and  obligation  of  us ;  but  'spose,  massa,  we  get 


452  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

way  off  North,  who's  gwine  to  take  care  of  us  and  our 
wives  and  children  ?" 

"  Take  care  of  you  !"  repeated  Brainard,  scornfully ; 
"  are  you  not  a  man,  and  cannot  you  take  care  of  your- 
self? Who  takes  care  of  us?  Who  takes  care  of  one, 
I  want  to  know,  in  the  name  of  the  God  who  made 
me?" 

"Ah!  but  you  got  the  head-piece,  massa,"  touching 
a  forehead  that  indeed  showed  the  absence  of  intel- 
lectual power.  "  God  don't  make  everybody  alike.  He 
make  some  for  one  thing,  some  for  anoder.  If  he  make 
massa  to  take  care  of  me,  and  me  to  work  for  him,  why 
ain't  that  good  ?  If  I  be  satisfied,  why  not  go  to  heaven 
the  way  I  started? — got  halfway  there  'ready,  massa  !" 

Brainard  made  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and  crushed 
the  dry  twigs  beneath  his  feet.  Then,  with  admirable 
patience  and  consummate  eloquence,  he  continued  to 
enforce  his  arguments,  and  to  stir  up  the  quiet  pool  of 
contentment  in  the  negro's  mind,  into  the  troubled 
billows  of  disaffection.  He  talked  till  the  midnight 
stars  flashed  through  the  deepening  blue  of  heaven, — 
till  the  wakeful  mocking-bird  was  hushed  to  silence ; 
and  Paul  listened,  like  one  awaking  from  a  dream,  won- 
dering how  he  could  have  lived  so  long,  without  knowing 
what  a  wretched  being  he  was  before.  It  was  not  the 
policy  of  Brainard  to  startle  him  at  first,  by  unveiling 
all  his  designs ;  but  he  had  taken  the  first  step,  and  all 
succeeding  ones  would  be  comparatively  easy.     He  had 


THE  PLANTER'S  '  NORTHERN   BRIDE.  453 

been  strewing  a  gunpowder  train  the  length  and  breadth 
of  his  journey,  and  waited  the  favourable  moment  to 
apply  the  kindling  spark  and  let  the  blazing  track  be 
seen, — a  fiery  serpent  winding  through  the  land  ! 

"And  now,  Paul,"  said  he,  rising  from  the  gnarled 
trunk,  and  taking  a  Bible  from  his  bosom,  "  you  believe 
in  this  holy  book  of  God  ?" 

"  Sartain,  sartain  ! — blessed  be  the  Lord ! — I  do." 

"  Swear,  then,  over  this  sacred  volume,  never  to 
speak  of  what  I  have  this  night  revealed  to  you,  with- 
out my  permission.  By  and  by  we  will  take  others  in 
our  counsel;  but  you  and  I  must  have  many  talks 
together,  before  we  understand  each  other ;  but,  as  sure 
as  you  are  a  man,  you  were  created  to  be  the  instru- 
ment of  deliverance  to  your  brethren,  and  a  light  to 
them  that  sit  in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death. 
Ages  hence  shall  hear  of  Uncle  Paul,  and  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  regenerated  Africa  shall  arise  up  and  call 
him  blessed !  Here,  take  this  volume  in  your  hand,  and 
swear  that  death  itself  shall  not  wrest  from  you  the 
secret  of  this  hour." 

The  bewildered  and  awe-struck  negro  took  the  book, 
and  reverently  kissing  it,  mechanically  obeyed  the  bid- 
ding of  the  master-will,  acting  upon  him  with  such  iron 
*brce. 

They  then  separated,  and  returned  by  different  paths 
to  their  respective  dwelling-places.  Uncle  Paul  was  so 
absorbed  by  new  and  momentous  thoughts,  he  did  not 


454  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

think  that  he  was  approaching  the  graveyard,  till  he  saw 
the  white  paling  glimmering  in  the  darkness,  and  he 
felt  the  cold,  fearful  proximity  of  the  dead. 

"Wouldn't  go  by  there  this  time  for  all  the  universe," 
said  he  ;  "  didn't  I  tell  massa,  right  over  Dilsy's  grave, 
I  didn't  want  to  be  free  ?  and  ain't  it  the  old  sarpent 
that's  beguiling  me  ?  Wish  I'd  neber  known  I  so  bad 
off;  wish  'twant  a  sin  to  be  satisfied  with  myself;  won- 
der if  the  Lord  did  send  Massa  Brainard,  sure  enuff  ?" 

Turning  round  abruptly,  he  retraced  his  steps,  and 
circumambulated  the  woods,  to  avoid  the  grave  of  Dilsy. 
He  felt  restless,  unhappy, — he  could  not  sleep.  The 
next  day  he  could  not  work.  Every  few  moments  he 
would  stick  his  spade  in  the  ground,  and  resting  his 
brawny  hands  on  the  top  of  the  handle,  look  fixedly  on  the 
earth,  as  if  trying  to  solve  some  great  problem.  Then 
he  would  rouse  himself,  shake  his  head,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "It  won't  do," — and,  renewing  his  labour,  make 
the  earth  fly  under  his  plunging  utensil.  But  at  night, 
he  was  again  under  the  magnetic  influence  of  Brainard, 
who  at  last  found  a  spot  in  the  negro's  yielding  heart 
where  he  could  place  the  lever  of  his  strong  will,  and 
move  him  to  his  purpose.  The  blacksmith, — a  man 
black  as  his  coals,  and  endowed  with  the  strength  and 
nerve  of  Hercules,  was  next  admitted  to  their  midnight 
deliberations — another  and  then  another, — till,  fed  by 
numbers  and  inflamed  by  the  mystery  of  their  nocturnal 


the  planter's  northern  bride.  455 

Meetings,  the  elements  of  insurrection  began  to  roar,  in 
sullen  murmurs,  like  subterranean  fires. 

That  a  man,  gifted  with  the  eloquence  of  Whitfield, 
the  will  of  Napoleon,  and  the  perseverance  of  Peter  the 
Great,  should  exercise  a  resistless  influence  over  tl  e 
simple  and  credulous  beings  thrown  so  completely  in  his 
power,  it  is  not  strange.  The  overseer  suspected  no- 
thing, because  religion  was  the  watchword  of  all  their 
meetings,  religion  the  cloak  that  mantled  all  their  de- 
signs. But  he  perceived  a  spirit  of  insubordination 
gradually  stealing  over  the  plantation.  There  was  sul- 
lenness  and  gloom,  where,  formerly,  cheerfulness  and 
good-humour  enlivened  the  labours  of  the  field;  and  the 
merry  laugh,  the  spontaneous  song  no  longer  were  heard 
in  the  evening  twilight. 

In  less  than  a  fortnight  after  Brainard's  first  unwit- 
nessed meeting  with  Uncle  Paul,  a  dusky  form  could  be 
seen  travailing  by  the  burning  forge,  in  the  hush  of  the 
midnight  hour,  with  closed  shutters,  to  exclude  the  ruddy 
beams  from  flashing  on  the  darkness  of  night.  Bude 
swords  and  murderous  weapons  were  shaped  by  the 
swarthy  artisan,  from  whose  reeking  brow  the  sweat- 
drops  rolled  upon  the  hot  metal,  hissing  as  they  evapo- 
rated. Then,  by  and  by,  the  black  Vulcan  would  steal 
forth,  and,  removing  a  pile  of  dried  underbrush  and 
moss,  crawl  on  his  hands  and  feet  under  the  building, 
and  deposit  the  hastily-wrought  instruments  in  a  dark 
cavity,  dug  out,  deep  and  narrow,  beneath  the  forge. 


456  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Some  old  planks  covered  the  aperture,  and  the  moss 
and  underbrush  concealed  the  place  of  entrance.  Some- 
times a  white  face  gleamed  stealthily  through  the  cau- 
tiously-opened  door,  and  a  low,  sweet-toned  voice  invoked 
:  the  blessing  of  heaven  on  the  sable  workman. 

"Toil  on,  my  brother — toil  on,  and  faint  not,  for  the 
day  of  redemption  is  at  hand !  Think  of  Him  who  said 
'I  come  not  to  bring  peace  on  earth,  but  a  sword.' 
Think  of  Him  who  came  in  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah, 
travelling  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  whose  rai- 
ments were  sprinkled  with  blood,  who  said  'The  day 
of  vengeance  is  in  my  heart,  and  the  year  of  my  re- 
deemed is  come.'  " 

It  was  thus,  with  burning  words,  more  powerful  be- 
cause partially  unintelligible  to  the  hearer,  he  set  the 
negro's  excitable  imagination  into  a  blaze  of  enthu- 
siasm,  who  went  on  toiling  with  ten-fold  zeal,  while  his 
large  eyes  glowed  by  the  flaming  forge,  like  balls  of 
living  fire. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Moreland's  plantation 
was  the  only  scene  of  the  labours  of  the  indefatigable 
Brainard.  There  was  one  about  eight  miles  distant, 
where  he  preached  on  alternate  Sundays,  and  where  the 
same  dark  scenes  were  enacting.  He  had  runners  em- 
ployed in  travelling  secretly  from  place  to  place,  giving 
constant  information  of  all  that  was  passing — shuttles 
of  the  loom  of  abolition,  weaving  a  web  which  should  bo 
the  winding-sheet  of  the  South.     It  was  now  autumn, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         457 

and  the  Christmas  holidays  were  to  witness  the  fruition 
of  his  labours.  He  had  ample  time  to  work  in,  ample 
materials  to  work  with,  and  opportunity  smiled  most 
benignantly  on  his  plans. 

Shall  we  look  into  the  secret  chambers  of  his  heart, 
and  try  to  discover  the  moving  spring  of  the  complicated 
machinery  at  work  there  ?  Is  he  really  one  of  God's 
anointed  ministers,  or  has  he  assumed  the  sacred  name, 
as  a  passport  with  a  hospitable  and  unsuspecting  people  ? 
Has  he  borrowed  the  snowy  fleece  of  the  sheep,  to  clothe 
the  gaunt  limbs  and  hide  the  gnashing  fangs  of  the 
wolf?  Has  Moreland  ever  injured  him,  that  he  should 
come  stealing  and  coiling  himself  secretly  and  insidiously 
into  the  heart  of  his  household,  and  endeavour  to  sting 
the  bosom  that  has  warmed  him  ?  that  he  should  throw 
the  brand  of  discord  in  his  peaceful  plantation,  and 
abuse  the  sacred  trust  committed  to  his  keeping  ?  Has 
the  South ...ever  injured  him,  that  he  should  seek  to  make 
its  blossoming  fields  and  fragrant  bowers,  Acelclemas 
and  Gfolgothas,  furrowed  with  the  ploughshare  of  ruin  ? 
Does  he  really  think,  with  Saul  of  Tarsus,  when  breath- 
ing fire  and  persecution  against  the  Christians,  that  he 
is  really  doing  God  and  man  service  ?  We  should  like 
to  ask  him  if  he  has  no  home,  wife  or  child  of  his  own, 
no  household  gods  to  defend,  no  domestic  penetralia  to 
keep  sacred  from  intrusion.  We  think  he  talked  to 
Eula  of  his  fondness  for  his  children — of  his  own  smiling 
offspring,     We  should  like  to  ask  him  if  he  would  teach 


458  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  hand  of  the  assassin,  where  the  life-veins  were  wan 
dering  in  the  bosom  of  his  wife,  or  his  bloody  fingers  tc 
twist  in  the  shining  ringlets  of  his  child  ? 

Is  he  the  leader  of  a  confederated  band,  or  a  mere 
tool,  a  machine  moved  bj  the  will  of  others  ? 

Look  at  him !  He  is  alone  now  in  the  room  appro- 
priated to  his  accommodation.  It  is  nearly  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  yet  he  is  still  awake, — seated  at  a 
little  table,  and  poring  over  the  pages  of  that  Bible,  on 
which,  with  Judas  kiss,  Paul  had  sworn  to  betray  his 
kind  and  once  beloved  master.  Ah  !  he  must  be  a  good 
man,  or  he  would  not  read  his  Bible  so  earnestly. 

But,  perhaps  he  is  studying  passages  to  give  sanctity 
and  effect  to  his  incendiary  addresses.  Like  Belshazzar, 
he  may  be  purloining  the  golden  vessels  from  God's 
temple,  to  gratify  his  own  unhallowed  passions. 

There  is  one  passage  of  Scripture  on  which  his  eye 
glances  ;  then  he  hastily  turns  over  the  leaf.  We  won- 
der he  does  not  commit  it  to  memory,  for  it  is  a  most 
eloquent  denunciation.  The  arrows  of  divine  indigna- 
tion are  quivering  in  every  word. 

"  Woe  unto  you,  Pharisees  !  for  ye  tithe  mint,  and  rue, 
and  all  manner  of  herbs,  and  pass  over  judgment  and 
the  love  of  God :  these  ought  ye  to  have  done,  and  not 
leave  the  other  undone. 

"Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites! 
for  ye  are  as  graves  which  appear  not,  and  the  men  that 
walu  over  them  are  not  aware  of  them." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         459 

Years  ago,  in  one  of  the  Eastern  States,  there  was  a 
boy,  a  very  young  boy,  the  son  of  obscure  and  indigent 
parents,  who,  being  convicted  of  theft,  was  immured  in 
the  walls  of  a  penitentiary.  In  consequence  of  his 
ixtreme  youth,  and  the  remarkable  talents  he  had  exhi- 
bited at  school,  a  petition,  signed  by  some  of  the  most 
influential  gentlemen  in  town,  was  sent  to  the  go- 
vernor, to  mitigate  his  sentence ;  and  after  one  year's 
imprisonment  he  was  released,  with  the  felon's  brand  on 
his  youthful  reputation.  But  the  benevolent  gentlemen 
who  had  manifested  so  deep  an  interest  in  his  fate, 
resolved  to  rescue  him  from  the  disgraceful  consequences 
of  his  first  transgression,  by  giving  him  those  advantages 
of  education  necessary  for  the  development  of  his  un- 
common genius.  They  sent  him  to  college,  defrayed  all 
his  expenses,  and  exulted  in  the  bright  promise  of  his 
future  eminence.  But  the  dark  spot,  for  a  time  con- 
cealed, but  never  effaced,  began  to  spread.  His  sole 
ambition  seemed  to  consist  in  deceiving  and  mocking  the 
judgment  of  those  who  had  known  him  as  a  trans- 
gressing boy.  Possessed  of  a  graceful  carriage,  a  voice 
of  rare  and  winning  power,  he  never  failed  to  ingratiate 
himself  with  strangers,  on  whose  credulity  he  wished  to 
impose.  Under  different  names,  he  went  from  place  to 
place,  exciting  admiration  and  commanding  attention 
even  from  the  magnates  of  the  land.  Now  he  was  a 
lawyer,  keen  in  debate,  clenching  in  argument,  eloquent 
in  speech ;  now  a  young  Esculapius,  armed  with  power 


4G0  the  planter's  northern  eride. 

to  crush  the  Python,  disease,  in  all  its  hideous  convolu 
tions ;  again  a  minister  of  God,  with  the  dew  of  Hermon 
on  his  lips,  and  the  music  of  David's  harp  flowing  from 
his  tongue.  He  seemed  to  glory  in  detection,  exulting 
over  the  dupes  he  had  made.  As  adroit  to  escape  the 
consequences  of  his  deception  as  he  was  skilful  to 
deceive,  he  flashed,  a  brilliant  ignis-fatuus,  here  and 
there,  the  wonder  and  shame  of  his  native  regions. 
Destitute  of  principle,  ready  to  lend  himself  to  any 
party,  provided  his  momentary  interests  were  advanced, 
always  anxious  to  enter  on  a  new  field  of  action,  since 
it  afforded  a  larger  development  of  his  Machiavellian 
powers,  would  it  be  incredible  if  this  felon  boy,  this 
artful,  unprincipled  young  man,  and  Thomas  Brainard, 
now  in  the  full  meridian  of  manhood,  should  prove  iden- 
tical? Who  could  be  better  fitted  as  an  agent  of  the 
powers  of  darkness,  than  one  who  had  served  so  long  an 
apprenticeship  to  its  Satanic  Prince? 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

It  was  a  bleak,  dull,  cloudy,  autumnal  day.  More- 
land  was  travelling  alone,  a  dismal,  solitary  road.  The 
oak  leaves  were  brown  and  sere,  partly  strewed  and 
drifted  on  the  ground,  and  partly  quivering  on  the  half- 
naked  boughs.  The  pines  still  wore  their  hue  of  peren- 
nial green ;  but  the  wind  roared  through  their  rustling 
branches,  like  the  voice  of  the  surging  waves,  in  melan- 
choly gusts.  The  road  was  one  bed  of  sand,  in  which 
the  horses'  feet  plunged  to  the  fetlocks,  throwing  up  a 
cloud  of  dust  at  every  step.  Moreland  was  going  on  a 
sad  errand,  and  felt  more  than  usually  susceptible  of 
the  depressing  influences  of  the  lonely  scene  and  the 
withering  season. 

He  had  received  an  unexpected  summons  that  morn- 
ing, before  the  breaking  day.  The  messenger  was  from 
the  unhappy  Claudia,  whom  he  believed  still  in  her 
mother's  native  land.  She  had  returned,  was  ill,  the 
physician  had  pronounced  her  malady  incurable, — she 
wished  to  see  him,  if  it  were  but  one  moment,  before 
she  died ;  she  entreated  him  to  hasten  his  coming,  lest 
161  461 


462  the  planter's  northern  eride. 

it  might  be  too  late.  Could  any  one  turn  a  deaf  ear  to 
such  an  appeal  ? — and,  least  of  all,  could  Moreland  ? 

It  was  terrible,  to  be  compelled  to  plough  through 
those  drifts  of  sand,  when  his  agitated  and  impatient 
spirit  urged  him  on  with  lightning  speed ;  but,  perhaps 
it  was  well  that  he  had  leisure  for  reflection.  In 
reviewing  his  past  life,  he  blamed  himself  so  much  for 
having  slighted  the  warnings  of  experience,  and  yielding 
to  the  impulse  of  passion,  that  he  felt  only  compassion 
for  the  wrongs  he  had  once  believed  beyond  the  reach 
of  forgiveness.  He  felt  how  long  and  how  bitterly  one 
might  rue  the  consequences  of  one  rash  act.  It  was 
true,  that  he  was  legally  freed  from  the  disgraceful 
connexion;  but  the  scars,  where  the  chain  had  galled 
and  corroded,  would  for  ever  remain  on  the  heart.  To 
exasperate  and  humiliate  him,  she  had  remained  where 
her  influence  could  still  be  felt,  her  appearance  awaken 
in  full  force  the  memories  of  the  past.  He  knew  that 
Eulalia  never  thought  of  her  without  anguish,  as  having 
made  less  honourable  and  holy  the  name  of  wife, — of 
his  wife.  But  she  was  dying  now ;  and  he  could  meet 
her  as  a  fellow-sinner,  whose  only  reliance,  like  himself, 
must  be  on  the  mercy  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Suddenly  the  sand  disappeared,  and  the  hardened  soil 
assumed  a  deep  red  hue,  that  contrasted  richly  with  the 
dark-green  pines.  He  proceeded  with  accelerated  velo- 
city ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  second  day's 
journey  that  he  reached  the  place  of  his  destination. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        4G3 

It  was  a  lonely  dwelling,  situated  at  some  distance  from 
the  main  road,  and  densely  shaded  in  summer  with  the 
sweet-blossomed  acacia,  and  the  graceful  China  tree. 
Now  the  only  shade  was  a  large  and  spreading  live-oak, 
hung  with  festoons  of  gray  moss,  that  swept  over  More- 
land's  head,  as  he  passed  under  it,  in  long,  weeping 
garlands.  Had  they  been  wreaths  of  blooming  roses, 
they  would  have  had  a  funereal  seeming,  at  that  gloomy 
moment. 

A  light,  subdued  by  muslin  curtains  closely  drawn, 
indicated  the  chamber  of  Claudia.  Was  that  light 
shining  on  the  struggles  of  departing  life,  or  glimmer- 
ing on  the  cold,  still  couch  of  death  ?  With  an  agitated 
hand  he  lifted  the  knocker,  which  was  muffled,  then 
without  suffering  it  to  fall,  he  gently  let  it  go,  and 
entered  the  house  without  calling  a  servant  to  the  door. 
There  was  a  light  streaming  from  the  parlour,  the  doors 
of  which  were  thrown  widely  open,  showing  it  to  be 
unoccupied.  Glad  of  an  opportunity  of  composing  his 
thoughts,  he  entered,  and  throwing  himself  on  a  sofa, 
waited  the  coming  footstep  which  he  was  su/e  would 
soon  approach.  The  reckless  character  of  the  mistress 
seemed  stamped  on  everything  around  him.  The  furni- 
ture was  rich  and  showy,  but  its  polish  was  dimmed 
with  dust,  and  the  flies  had  left  innumerable  traces  on 
the  large  gilded  mirrors,  hanging  on  opposite  walls.  A 
harp,  with  broken  strings  dangling  on  the  carpet,  stood 
in  one  corner ;  a  guitar,  in  the  same  neglected  plight, 


4G4  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

was  tJ'jrown  carelessly  in  another.  A  piano,  "with  unco- 
vered keys,  and  burdened  with  music  books,  confusedly 
piled  together,  stood  between  two  windows,  whose  cur- 
tains, gathered  back  into  gilded  shafts,  contained  volumes 
of  dust  in  their  sweeping  folds.  Splendidly  bound  books, 
with  the  backs  loose  and  broken,  lay  scattered  on  a  mar- 
ble centre  table,  around  a  costly  Etruscan  vase,  filled 
with  faded  and  shrivelled  flowers.  No  well  trained,  neat, 
and  considerate  servant,  thoughtful  of  the  reputation 
and  comfort  of  her  mistress,  presided  in  that  neglected 
household.  Moreland  sighed  bitterly,  while  the  image 
of  his  lovely  wife,  surrounded  by  an  elegance  and 
purity,  which  was  but  a  reflection  of  inward  refinement 
and  innocence,  rose  before  him,  rebuking  the  tawdry 
splendour  on  which  he  was  gazing. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  in  the  passage, 
and  voices  speaking  in  quick,  passionate  tones  met  his 
ear. 

"You  shall  go  to  bed,  missy!" — it  was  the  voice  of 
a  negro,  harsh  and  imperious.  "  I'm  not  going  to  be 
bothered  with  you  up  arter  supper,  gracious  knows ! 
Come  along,  this  minnitl" 

"  I  won't ! — you  ugly,  cross  old  thing  !"  exclaimed  a 
pair  of  very  juvenile  lips, — and  Moreland  started  from 
the  sofa,  with  a  sudden  bound,  while  the  pulsations  of 
his  heart  were  wildly  quickened.  "  I  won't  go  to  bed 
till  I'm  sleepy !  Let  go  of  me,  and  hush  your  big 
mouth!" 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        465 

Oil !  Erne,  is  ifc  indeed,  you,  uttering  this  coarse, 
violent  language  ? — you,  in  whose  little  bosom  Eulalia 
had  transfused  a  portion  of  her  own  angelic  sweetness  ? 
Is  it  the  cherub,  whose  loss  she  has  so  wept  and  bewailed, 
transformed  into  the  miniature  vixen,  who  is  now  rushing 
by  the  door  ? 

"Effie,  Eme !"  Hark!  —  whose  voice  was  that? 
With  a  galvanic  spring,  she  leaped  forward,  and,  utter- 
ing a  loud,  shrill  cry,  fell  into  the  arms  opened  to 
embrace  her. 

"Papa,  papa!"  she  cried — bursting  into  hysterical 
laughter,  mingled  with  tears — "  oh !  papa,  have  you 
come  for  me  ?" 

She  clung  to  him  with  passionate  affection,  and  the 
eyes  that  so  lately  flashed  with  defiance  were  swimming 
in  liquid  softness.  Moreland's  heart  yearned  over  his 
restored  child,  with  indescribable  tenderness.  In  the 
rude  burst  of  passion,  which  had  shocked  and  pained 
him,  he  perceived  the  influence  of  her  unhappy  mother, 
and  he  pitied  far  more  than  he  blamed.  Her  person 
was  neglected  and  changed.  Her  dress  was  soiled,  and 
carelessly  put  on  ;  her  thick,  clustering  curls  tangled, 
and  devoid  of  lustre.  What  would  Kizzie  say,  to  see 
her  darling  thus  ? 

"Is  your  mistress  better?"  he  asked  of  the  negress, 
who  stood  staring  in  at  the  door,  with  a  sullen,  dogged 
expression  of  countenance. 

"Just  as  bad  as  can  be !"  was  the  uncourteous  reply. 


4GG  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"Tell  her  Mr.  Moreland  is  here,"  said  he,  and  the 
girl  turned  from  the  door. 

Effie's  quick,  glancing  eyes  followed  her  movements. 
The  moment  she  was  out  of  sight,  she  said, 

"  Take  me  home,  papa ;  I  don't  love  to  stay  here ! 
Take  me  to  my  dear,  sweet,  other  mamma  !  How  came 
I  to  have  two  mammas?"  she  added, — knitting  her 
brows,  and  looking  earnestly  in  his  face, — "when  I 
don't  love  and  don't  want  but  one  ?" 

"  We  have  been  very  unhappy  about  you,"  said  he, — 
without  answering  her  last  perplexing  question, — "  we 
feared  we  should  never  see  you  again.  I  little  thought 
to  find  you  here." 

At  the  return  of  the  black  girl,  Effie  drew  back  with 
such  instinctive  repugnance,  Moreland  was  convinced 
she  must  have  been  very  harshly  if  not  cruelly  treated 
by  her.  He  could  not  help  frowning,  as  he  rose  to 
follow  her. 

"Mistress  says  you  mustn't  come,"  said  she  to  Effie, 
who  immediately  began  to  make  a  show  of  resistance ; 
"  she  says  you  must  mind  me,  and  go  to  bed,  right  off." 

"You  must,  Effie,"  said  her  father,  in  a  tone  of 
authority,  which  subdued  her  at  once,  for,  sliding  from 
his  arms,  she  stood  with  an  air  of  submission  by  his  side. 
Lightning  is  not  quicker  in  its  flash  than  the  transitions 
of  feeling  in  the  breast  of  Effie.  "  Speak  another 
harsh,   insolent  word  to   this  child  at  your  peril,"  he 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         467 

added,  in  a  low  but  distinct  voice  to  the  girl,  when  they 
reached  the  door  of  Claudia's  apartment.    "  Leave  me/' 

He  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  while  Effie 
walked  quietly  away  with  her  surly  conductress,  looking 
back  wistfully  at  every  step ;  then  opening  the  door  with 
noiseless  touch,  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  her 
who  had  once  been  his  wife.  She  lay  on  a  low  couch, 
in  a  half-reclining  position,  supported  by  pillows,  not 
more  colourless  than  her  face.  How  ghastly  white  it 
looked,  gleaming  from  amid  the  purplish  blackness  of 
her  hair !  Her  eyes,  so  large,  so  black,  so  wildly,  pain- 
fully brilliant,  were  riveted  upon  him  with  such  burning 
intensity,  they  seemed  to  scorch  while  they  gazed.  He 
was  not  prepared  for  such  a  fearful  change.  He  felt 
cold,  faint,  dizzy,  and  his  face  turned  nearly  as  pallid 
as  her  own. 

"You  have  come;  yes,  you  have  come,"  said  she  in 
a  quick,  panting,  husky  tone.  "  I  ought  to  thank  you, 
but  I  have  no  time  for  idle  words.  You  see  I  am  dying. 
I  have  often  prayed  for  death ;  but  I  did  not  know  what 
it  was, — no,  no,  I  did  not  know  what  it  was  !" 

"  Oh  !  Claudia  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  burst  of  irre- 
pressible emotion.  It  was  all  he  could  utter.  He 
seemed  hurled  back,  with  a  violent  wrench,  over  th 
chasm  of  years,  to  the  moment  when,  in  the  splendour 
of  her  girlish  bloom  and  beauty,  she  had  fascinated  hia 
young  imagination.  He  saw  that  radiant,  graceful 
figure,  the  goddess  of  the  ball-room,  side  by  side  with 


468  the  planter's  northern  bride 

the  pale,  emaciated,  reclining  shadow — the  sad  mockery 
of  life ;  and  he  shuddered  and  groaned  at  the  contrast. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  pity  me,"  said  she,  a  softer 
expression  nevertheless  passing  over  her  face ;  "  it  will 
do  no  good.  An  ocean  of  tears  could  not  save  me  now 
from  the  grave  that  yawns  black  and  cold  before  me.  I 
did  not  send  for  you  because  I  wanted  your  compassion, 
or  even  your  forgiveness.  I  have  suffered  you  to  believe 
a  lie.  After  I  am  dead,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  of 
me  as  worse  than  I  really  am.  The  crimes  imputed  I 
would  not  deny,  because  they  reflected  shame  and  misery 
on  you.  In  my  hatred  and  revenge,  I  felt  willing  to 
sink  down  to  the  lowest  abyss  myself,  provided  I  dragged 
you  with  me,  the  sharer  of  my  disgrace.  But,  on  the 
word  of  a  dying  woman,  the  accusations  brought  against 
me  were  false.  For  my  after  career,  I  am  responsible 
to  no  one.  I  make  no  confessions :  I  ask  no  abso- 
lution." 

Moreland  was  too  much  shocked  to  reply.  Whatever 
joy  he  might  feel  at  the  avowal  of  her  innocence,  was 
deadened  by  the  knowledge  of  the  bitter  and  revengeful 
motives  which  had  so  long  withheld  it. 

"  You  do  not  speak  to  me  !  You  do  not  believe  me  !" 
she  cried,  in  an  impatient,  yet  exhausted  tone,  a  dark 
fire  kindling  in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  Claudia,  I  do  believe  you ;  but  let  the  past  be 
forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  the  future.  Time  is 
nothing  to  you — eternity,  everything.     You  do  not  want 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  469 

my  forgiveness ;  but  there  is  One  whose  forgiveness  you 
must  obtain,  or  the  doors  of  mercy  will  be  for  ever 
closed." 

"It  is  too  late  to  think  of  such  things — too  late!" 
said  she,  sinking  back  on  her  pillow.  "  I  am  going ;  but 
whether  into  the  blackness  of  annihilation,  or — "  She 
stopped,  with  a  spasmodic  shudder,  and  added  with  rapid 
utterance — "  Oh  !  if  you  knew  what  I  have  suifered  ! — 
such  agonies  of  pain !  I  have  died  ten  thousand  deaths 
already  !  Oh  !  surely  there  is  expiation  in  this  !  Tell 
me,  if  there  is  not !  Sin  must  be  burnt  out  in  the 
flames  of  suffering  like  mine  !" 

"  There  is  One  who  bore  the  burden  of  our  sins,  and 
the  agonies  of  our  sufferings,"  said  Moreland,  with  inex- 
pressible earnestness  and  solemnity.  "  His  alone  are 
expiatory.  To  Him  only  can  the  living  look  for  happi- 
ness ;  the  dying  for  hope  and  consolation.  Oh  !  Claudia, 
by  the  love  we  once  bore  each  other ;  by  the  child  in 
whose  heart  our  own  life  is  throbbing ;  by  the  eternity 
to  which  we  both  are  hastening ;  and  by  your  soul  and 
mine,  which  the  Son  of  God  died  to  redeem,  I  beseech 
you  to  cast  yourself,  lost  and  helpless  as  you  are,  into 
His  arms  of  love,  and  breathe  out  your  life  in  prayers 
for  pardon !  It  is  not  too  late !  Dare  not  limit  the 
mercy  of  the  Omnipotent !" 

"Where  is  He?"  asked  she  faintly,  raising  herself  on 
one  elbow,  and  looking  wildly  upward.  "Where  are 
the  arms  open  to  receive  me  ?     I  see  them  not !     I  feel 


470  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

them  not !  No,  no,  no  !  There  is  no  Saviour  for  me  ! 
I  cannot  pray — and  they  tell  me  prayer  alone  can  open 
the  gates  of  heaven  !" 

With  an  involuntary  motion,  Moreland  knelt  by  her 
bedside  and  breathed  forth  one  of  the  most  solemn,  fer- 
vent, thrilling  prayers  that  ever  gushed  from  mortal 
lips.  A  soul  shrouded  in  almost  heathen  darkness, 
trembling  on  the  threshold  of  eternity,  seemed  pleading 
through  him,  in  agonies  of  supplication,  from  the  depths 
of  penitence  and  remorse. 

Claudia  lay  with  closed  eyes,  and  hands  tightly  clasped 
over  her  bosom.  The  silence  of  death  reigned  in  the 
chamber  long  after  his  voice  ceased,  and  Moreland 
thought  she  slept,  when,  suddenly,  low  sobs,  that  threat- 
ened her  with  suffocation,  convulsed  her  frame,  and  she 
burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  such  as  seldom  flow  but 
from  the  eyes  of  childhood.  The  more  Moreland  en- 
deavoured to  soothe,  the  more  bitterly  she  wept.  Deeply 
affected,  he  raised  her  head  on  his  arm,  and  put  back 
the  damp,  matted  locks  that  fell  blinding  over  her 
temples. 

"I  don't  deserve  this,"  she  said.  "Tou  ought  to 
curse  me.  Oh !  I  have  been  walking  in  darkness  all 
my  life,  and  light  dawns  just  as  my  eyes  are  about  to 
close  for  ever.  How  kind,  how  good,  how  just  you  have 
been,  and  I  knew  it  not  till  now  !  Oh  !  Moreland  !  if 
the  living  could  know  how  the  dying  feel !" 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  all  that  passed  in 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  471 

this  hour  of  awful  reconciliation.  Several  times  she 
was  seized  with  paroxysms  of  agony  terrible  to  behold, 
but  she  would  not  allow  him  to  ring  for  assistance. 

"  The  anodyne  you  have  given  me  is  the  only  thing 
that  gives  me  the  slightest  relief,"  she  said,  in  the  inter 
val  of  her  sufferings.     "I  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  those 
horrible  negroes.     I  can  bear   pain  better  than  their 
insolence." 

Moreland  might  have  told  her  that  no  tyrants  are  so 
despotic  as  those  who  have  once  been  tyrannized  over 
themselves;  that  they  were  revenging  themselves  while 
she  lay  helpless  on  the  bed  of  sickness,  for  the  wrongs  they 
had  endured  from  her  in  her  day  of  power.  He  might 
have  upbraided  her  for  tearing  away  her  child  from  the 
gracious  influences  which  were  blessing  her  childhood, 
and  exposing  her  to  the  harshness  and  insolence  she 
had  brought  in  judgment  on  herself;  but  he  came  to 
pour  oil,  not  vinegar,  on  the  wounded  heart  of  the  humi- 
liated victim  of  her  own  unmastered  passions. 

"Why  are  you  here  without  friends  ?"  he  asked ;  "at 
the  mercy  of  menials,  so  destitute  of  comfort,  so  lonely 
and  desolate  ?  Why  did  you  not  send  for  me  sooner, 
that  I  might  relieve  your  sufferings  and  administer  to 
your  necessities  ?" 

"I  felt  a  sullen  pride  in  suffering  alone  and  unpitied," 
she  answered.  "  I  dreamed  there  was  atonement  for 
sin  in  such  unknown  anguish.  Friend !  I  have  no 
friend.     You  are  the   only   friend   I  ever  had  in   the 


472  THE   lLANTEIt's   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

world.  Friend — lover — husband  once,"  she  slowly  re- 
peated, "now  for  ever  lost  to  me.  Yes!  I  had  one 
more  friend — my  adopted  mother.  Thank  heaven  !  she 
died  without  knowing  how  utterly  unworthy  I  proved  of 
her  guardian  love.  My  God !  It  was  in  this  very  room 
she  died  !  perhaps  on  this  very  pillow  I" 

"Would  that  Eulalia  were  with  me  !"  exclaimed 
Moreland;  "she  would  prove  to  you  an  angel  of  conso- 
lation. Let  me  send  for  her.  You  may  linger  yet  for 
days  and  weeks.  You  may  yet  be  restored  to  health 
and  life." 

"Never!  the  talons  of  the  vulture  are  here,"  laying 
her  hand  on  her  breast.  "It  is  more  than  a  year  since 
I  have  known  that  I  have  an  incurable  malady,  and  I 
have  seen  death  coming  slowly  and  surely,  nearer  and 
nearer,  dark,  cold,  and  inexorable,  with  a  burning  dart 
in  his  hand,  ready  to  transfix  my  writhing  heart.  They 
wanted  me  to  stay  in  Italy  and  die,  but  I  would  not. 
I  could  not  die  without  seeing  you  once  more.  I  went 
to  your  door,  almost,  but  dared  not  enter.  Sickness 
had  made  me  a  coward.  I  saw  my  child  playing  among 
the  flowers,  and  there  was  no  one  near  to  guard  her. 
I  stole  softly  behind  her,  threw  my  mantle  round  her 
head  to  stifle  her  cries,  and  fled.  Poor  child !  I  wish 
I  had  not  done  it.  I  had  better  left  her  with  your 
Eulalia.     I  cannot  make  her  love  me." 

After  another  pause,  in  which  her  thoughts  seemed 
flowing  in  a  more  tranquil  stream,  she  added-- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         473 

"You  must  not  bring  her  hither.  We  ought  not  to 
breath  the  same  atmosphere.  She  is  too  pure,  too 
holy.  I  should  envy  her  even  in  my  death-gasp.  As 
I  have  lived  without  the  friendship,  I  can  die  without 
the  sympathy  of  woman." 

Moreland  could  not  realize  that  death  was  so  rapidly 
approaching — she  spoke  with  such  occasional  energy, 
and  such  jets  of  fire  issued  from  the  dark  fountains  of 
her  eyes.  But  when  unnatural  excitement  subsided 
into  lethargy,  and  the  dark-veined  lids  closed  over  the 
large  sunken  orbs,  while  a  deeper  pallor  settled  on  her 
altered  and  sharpened  features,  he  could  see  but  too 
plainly  the  mark  of  the  skeleton  fingers,  whose  grasp 
was  tightening  over  her  heart.  There  was  nothing  left 
but  the  embers  of  life,  which  a  breath  might  reduce  to 
a  cold  heap  of  ashes.  Sad  and  mournful  were  his  vigils. 
The  melancholy  winds  of  autumn  swept  with  a  sighing, 
wailing  sound  against  the  windows,  and  sometimes  the 
dry  leaves  came  in  a  drift  against  the  panes,  rustling 
and  crackling  as  they  fell.  The  stars  gleamed  faintly 
through  gray,  rifted  clouds,  and  the  roar  of  a  distant 
waterfall,  with  a  monotony  more  dreary  than  silence, 
murmured  on  the  ear.  Oh,  woman  !  how  dreadful, 
even  in  this  world,  is  the  retribution  that  follows  thy 
aberration  from  rectitude  and  duty  !  Canst  thou  gather 
grapes  of  thorns,  or  roses  from  the  barren  sand  ?  Canst 
thou  put  thy  hand  in  the  cockatrice's  den,  without  feeling 
the  sting  and  venom  of  his  fangs  ?     Canst  thou  wrap 


474  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

thyself  body  and  soul  in  the  sheet-lightning  of  passion, 
without  being  scorched  and  shrivelled,  furrowed  and 
scarred  ?  A  wife,  without  the  protection  or  name  of 
her  husband, — a  mother,  disowned  by  her  child, — a  mis- 
tress, the  vassal  of  her  slaves, — an  accountable  being, 
awakened  to  the  responsibilities  of  life  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  they  are  sliding  from  the  grasp ;  an  eternal 
soul,  trembling,  shivering,  groping  in  darkness  illimita- 
ble, for  something  to  sustain  it,  even  if  it  be  but  the 
wind-shaken  reed !  Wasted  hours,  perverted  gifts,  lost, 
lost  treasures  behind,  an  unfathomable  abyss  below,  a 
consuming  God  above — oh  !  is  not  this  retribution  ? 
These  thoughts  swelled  high  in  the  breast  of  Moreland, 
as  he  sat  watching  the  death-like  slumbers  that  hung, 
like  a  heavy  mist,  over  the  couch  of  Claudia.  The  wind 
rose  higher,  and  swelled  into  loud  and  stormy  gusts, 
before  which  the  dark  cloud-racks  scudded,  unpiloted 
barks  of  a  dim  and  boundless  sea.  Moreland  rose  and 
looked  out  through  the  curtains,  feeling  a  gloomy  plea- 
sure in  the  apparent  sympathy  of  nature.  Dreariness 
without,  desolation  within.  He  wa3  glad  the  moon  was 
not  shining  down,  with  cold,  sickly  effulgence ;  he  was 
glad  the  stars  were  hiding  their  twinkling  faces  under 
a  cloud-veil,  whose  edges,  torn  by  the  wind,  seemed  to 
flap  as  he  gazed;  and,  ^hen  lightning  came  darting  in 
zigzag  leaps,  high  up  from  the  zenith,  and  plunged  hot 
and  fiery  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  he  felt  congenial 
electricity  burning  in  his  soul. 


'the  planter's  northern  eride.  4,5 

He  waited  for  the  thunder,  and  it  came  muttering  and 
roaring,  like  the  startled  lion  from  his  lair,  mingling 
with  the  howling  wind  and  the  drifting  rain.  It  was  one 
of  those  wild,  terrific  storms,  peculiar  to  a  Southern 
latitude,  which  destroy,  in  a  few  moments,  the  growth  of 
years.  The  shallow  roots  of  the  China  trees  were  torn 
up,  and  lay  heaving  and  quivering  on  the  earth ;  the 
broken  branches  of  the  acacias  went  hurrying  through 
the  air  like  birds  of  rapine ;  and  every  drop  of  rain 
seemed  to  bear  upon  its  bosom  a  rent  and  twisted  leaf. 

Claudia  slept  in  the  midst  of  this  elemental  war,  for 
her  senses  were  steeped  in  lethargy  by  the  powerful  drug 
of  the  East.  She  slept,  but  she  began  to  moan  in  her 
slumbers,  and  toss  her  arms  with  delirious  gesture — those 
poor,  emaciated  arms,  once  so  round  and  fair,  and  glit- 
tering with  gems. 

"  Oh !  thou  who  ridest  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
who  makest  darkness  thy  pavilion,"  cried  Moreland, 
turning  from  the  dim-lighted  couch  to  the  darkened 
heavens,  "  come  not  in  judgment,  but  mercy !  Have 
pity  on  the  frail  and  erring  creatures  thou  hast  made  ! 
Thou  knowest  our  frames :  thou  rememberest  that  we 
are  but  dust !  Oh  !  it  is  a  fearful  thin£,  this  rending  of 
the  immortal  from  the  mortal — fearful  to  witness,  but, 
alas  !  more  dread  to  bear  !" 

At  this  moment,  a  large  branch  of  the  live  oak  came 
tumbling,  crashing  against  the  house,  bursting  in  the 
casement,  and  shivering  into,  splinters  the  crystal  panes. 


476  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

The  house  rocked,  and  every  article  of  furniture  vibrated 
with  the  concussion.  The  shock,  the  crash,  roused 
Claudia  from  the  stupor  in  which  her  senses  were 
steeped.  She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  look  of  inde- 
scribable terror. 

"  The  destroying  angel  is  come !"  she  ejaculated,  in  a 
hollow,  trembling  voice.  "I  hear  the  rushing  of  his 
terrible  wings !" 

"  The  Lord  is  in  the  whirlwind,  as  well  as  the  still 
small  voice,  Claudia,"  said  Moreland;  but  even  as  he 
spoke  an  awful  change  came  over  her  countenance,  and 
violent  paroxysms  convulsed  her  features.  Moreland, 
believing  that  the  last  struggle  had  indeed  begun,  roused 
the  servants,  who,  awakened  by  the  storm,  came  hurry- 
ing into  the  room,  incapacitated  by  terror  from  ren- 
dering the  services  required.  Effie  glided  in  after  them. 
She  looked  with  awe  and  dread  on  the  pale,  writhing 
form  her  father  was  supporting  in  his  arms ;  but  she 
manifested  no  alarm  at  the  wild  storm-gusts  raging 
abroad. 

Moreland  would  have  sent  for  a  physician,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  brave  the  fury  of  the  tempest ;  and  he 
knew  the  skill  of  man  was  vain.  That  chill,  gray  tint, 
never  to  be  mistaken,  that  shows  the  tide  of  life  has  all 
ebbed,  leaving  the  sands  dry  and  bare,  was  stealing,  like 
twilight,  over  every  feature,  with  a  gradually  deepening 
shade. 

Moreland  hung  over  her  in  unspeakable  agony.     He 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         477 

would  have  given  worlds  for  one  assurance  from  her 
dying  lips  of  submission  to  her  God,  of  hope  in  her 
Saviour's  mercy.  He  felt  a  portion  of  that  divine  love 
in  his  heart,  which  threw  its  halo  of  light  round  Cal- 
vary's blood-stained  brow.  He  would  willingly  have 
offered  up  his  life  for  the  peace  of  that  departing  soul. 

"Speak  to  me,  Claudia,"  he  cried,  "and  tell  me  if 
the  hope  of  pardon  has  taken  the  sting  from  death, 
the  victory  from  the  grave !  Look  at  me,  if  speech  is 
denied  !  Give  me  one  glance,  in  token  that  a  forgiving 
God  is  found !" 

She  could  not  speak,  but  she  lifted  her  eyes,  where 
all  that  remained  of  vitality  was  concentrated  in  one 
burning  spark,  and  fixed  them  steadfastly  on  his. 
Never,  never  did  he  forget  that  glance.  It  haunted  him 
years  afterwards.  He  saw  it  in  the  blaze  of  noonday— 
the  darkness  of  midnight.  It  haunted  him  till  his  dying 
day. 

The  morning  sunbeams  shone  clear  and  bright  on  the 
wreck  of  the  midnight  storm — on  the  uprooted  trees, 
the  splintered  limbs,  the  drifted  leaves,  the  torn  and 
dripping  moss  garlands.  The  morning  sunbeams  stole, 
with  stealthy  rays,  through  a  rifted  curtain  on  the  ruins 
of  life, — the  cold,  white  face,  the  shrouded  eyes,  and 
folded  hands  ;  on  the  dullness,  the  stillness,  the  mystery 
of  death.  They  glimmered  on  triple  bars  of  dust, 
stretching  across  the  apartment,  and  gave  them  the 
appearance  of  gauzy  gold.  The  glittering  particles  sunk 
1G5 


478  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

lower  and  lower,  till  they  seemed  to  float  like  a  shroud 
over  the  body  of  the  dead. 

Even  in  death  was  the  hand  of  retribution  visible. 
No  white  blossoms,  emblematical  of  purity,  were  scat- 
ered  over  the  couch, — no  fragrant  jessamine  or  roses, 
overpowering,  with  their  sweetness,  the  deadly  odour  of 
mortality.  The  fair,  perishing  tokens  of  love  and  me- 
mory with  which  Southern  custom  beautifies  the  shroud 
and  the  coffin,  were  wanting  here. 

Moreland  and  his  little  daughter  followed  her  to  her 
lonely  grave.  He  was  spared  the  pain  of  a  public  fune- 
ral by  the  isolation  of  the  dwelling.  It  was  the  country- 
seat  of  Claudia's  adopted  mother,  remarkable  for  the 
beauty  of  its  situation,  and  once  distinguished  for  its 
elegance  and  taste.  Now,  however,  everything  wore  a 
neglected,  dilapidated  appearance.  The  vines  and 
shrubbery  which  the  former  mistress  had  so  carefully 
trained  had  grown  to  rank  luxuriance,  the  former  trail- 
ing in  the  dust,  the  latter  covered  with  dingy  cobwebs 
and  defaced  by  the  caterpillars'  nests. 

A  new  care  now  rested  on  Moreland.  Effie,  by  her 
mother's  death,  became  the  heiress  of  her  property.  He 
would  gladly  have  been  released  from  this  additional 
responsibility,  for  the  negroes,  left  so  long  without  pro- 
per discipline,  were  exceedingly  difficult  to  manage, 
He  resolved  to  break  up  the  establishment  and  take 
them  to  his  own  plantation,  which  was  under  such  excel- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        479 

lent  regulations,  and  where  the  influence  of  example 
would  be  more  powerful  than  precept  or  reproof. 

Little  did  he  dream  of  the  subterranean  fires  sullenly 
roaring  under  the  apparent  quietude  of  the  surface. 
Little  did  he  dream  that  Lucifer,  in  the  garb  of  an  angel 
of  light,  concealing  the  cunning  of  the  serpent  under 
the  dissembled  innocence  of  the  dove,  was  plotting  re- 
bellion, bloodshed,  and  ruin. 

There  was  peace  and  happiness,  however,  in  reserve, 
in  the  home  doubly  endeared  by  contrast  with  the  har- 
rowing scenes  through  which  he  had  lately  passed.  And 
yet  the  remembrance  of  Claudia,  her  sufferings  and  her 
death,  long  brooded  in  sadness  on  his  heart.  That  last 
glance,  so  earnestly  sought  as  a  token  of  peace,  and 
received  as  a  sign  of  unutterable  agony,  often  awakened 
him  suddenly  from  the  dreams  of  midnight,  and  seemed 
to  be  accompanied  by  a  wailing  cry  that  rang  through 
the  household,  and  left  its  mournful  echoes  in  his  soul. 
Eula  wept  over  her  fate.  Not  all  her  joy  at  the  resto- 
ration of  the  lost  Effie  could  remove  the  sad  impression 
of  her  mother's  melancholy  death — and  it  was  long  be- 
fore the  Effie  who  was  taken  from  them  reappeared. 
The  little  wilful  being,  whose  childish  prattle  was  vul- 
garized by  African  phrases,  learned  by  constant  asso- 
ciation with  the  negroes,  was  not  the  child  of  Eula's 
tender,  restraining  care.  She  had  to  begin  anew  her 
labours  of  love.  New  tares  were  to  be  uprooted,  new 
thorns  extracted,  and  choking  stones  removed,  before 


480  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the  lately  neglected  plant  could  receive,  in  blessing,  the 
sunshine  and  the  dew  of  culture. 

But  Eula,  with  unexampled  sweetness  of  temper  and 
constancy  of  purpose,  applied  herself  to  the  task,  in  the 
hope  of  final  success.  She  had  another  cause  of  anxiety, 
of  which  she  never  complained,  but  which  her  natural 
sensitiveness  and  timidity  made  her  shrink  from  analyz- 
ing. She  missed  the  respectful,  affectionate,  sponta- 
neous obedience  which  had  made  the  relation  of  mistress 
and  servants  hitherto  so  delightful.  Albert  seemed  less 
changed  than  the  others,  but  there  was  something,  even 
in  him,  which  she  felt,  without  being  able  to  explain. 

"  The  Ides  of  March  !  The  Ides  of  March  !"  Will 
a  darker  spirit  than  that  which  crimsoned  the  Roman 
Capitol  with  blood,  be  suffered  to  consummate  its  fell 
designs  ? 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

The  jailer's  wife  sat  alone  in  a  little  room  adjoining 
the  prisoners'  cells.  Her  husband  was  absent,  and  had 
committed  to  her  care  the  keys  of  the  prison-house, 
which  she  most  faithfully  guarded.  The  new  jail,  a 
handsome,  massy  brick  building,  had  been  burned  down 
a  short  time  previous  (whether  by  accident  or  design,  no 
one  had  been  able  to  discover),  and  the  dismal  walls  of 
the  old  wooden  one  once  more  showed  signs  of  occu- 
pancy. The  partition  that  separated  the  cells  from 
each  other  were  so  thin,  the  shrunken  boards  exhibiting 
many  a  chink  and  crevice,  that  voices  could  easily  pene- 
trate the  barrier.  Thus  the  prisoners,  though  nominally 
divided,  could  hold  occasional  intercourse  with  each 
other,  when  they  believed  themselves  safe  from  vigilant 
and  listening  ears. 

The  jailer's  wife  was  an  energetic  and  industrious 
woman,  who  frequently  sat  up  beyond  the  midnight 
hour,  plying  her  busy  needle.  It  was  a  nice,  quiet  time 
to  sew,  when  the  children  were  asleep,  and  the  prisoners 
at  rest  on  their  pallets  of  straw. 

0  481 


4S2  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

The  only  present  occupants  of  the  jail  were  two  negro 
men,  who  had  been  arrested  in  the  act  of  breaking  into 
the  bank.  They  belonged  to  different  masters,  and  had 
previously  sustained  honest  and  respectable  characters. 
The  name  of  one  was  Jerry,  the  other,  Jack. 

Mrs.  Wood,  the  jailer's  wife,  was  seated  by  a  com- 
fortable fire,  for  it  was  a  chilly,  wintry  night ;  and,  as 
she  heard  the  low  whistling  of  the  wind  under  the  doors 
and  windows,  she  thought  of  their  cold,  lonely  cells,  and 
wished  she  could  communicate  to  them  some  of  the 
genial  warmth  she  was  enjoying  alone.  She  was  a 
kind-hearted  woman,  and  many  a  heart  had  blessed  her, 
in  going  forth  from  those  prison  walls. 

She  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  cells, 
where  she  knew  the  prisoners  were  in  solitary  confine- 
ment. Laying  down  her  needle-work,  and  stepping  to 
the  door  on  tiptoe,  she  put  her  ear  to  the  key-hole,  and 
held  her  breath  to  listen.  She  heard  distinctly  the 
voice  of  Jerry  talking  to  Jack  through  the  chinks  of 
the  partition ;  and,  gathering  the  import  of  their  pre- 
ceding conversation  from  the  words  which  met  her  ear, 
she  stood  paralyzed  with  amazement  and  horror. 

"Hush!"  said  Jack,  "you  talk  too  loud.  'Spose 
somebody  hear  what  you  say  ?  Put  your  mouth  close  to 
this  crack.  Now,  just  talk  easy.  How  long,  you  think, 
'fore  Christmas?" 

"  'Bout  two  weeks,  or  so ;  'spect  it's  most  by," 
answered  Jerry.     "  The  Lord  Harry  !  ain't  we  gwinter 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  483 

have  a  merry  Christmas,  this  time  ?     White  folks  laugh 
wrong  side  of  the  mouth,  won't  they  ?" 

"  'Spose  they  find  us  out,  Jerry  ! — wonder  how  merry 
we'll  be  then  ?  'Most  wish  I'd  never  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  no  how !  If  the  Lord  all  on  our  side,  as  he  tell 
us,  wonder  what  he  let  'em  catch  us  and  shut  us  up  here 
for  ?  He  said  the  Lord  gwine  to  fight  for  us,  with  great 
big  flaming  sword  !  Don't  see  it !  Don't  much  believe 
he  got  any  !" 

"  You're  fit  for  nothing  but  a  coward,  Jack  !  If  it 
hadn't  bin  for  you  being  afeard,  we  shouldn't  bin 
cotched  in  the  fust  place !  I  tell  you  'twill  all  come 
right.  The  patrole  never  stays  out  arter  twelve, — 
they're  too  lazy  to  keep  out  of  bed  more  than  they  can 
help!" 

"  Wonder  if  they  warn't  up  when  they  poked  us  in 
this  here  ole  dark  hole  ?" 

"  The  niggers  '11  be  too  mighty  for  'em  this  time,  I 
tell  you  !  Ain't  they  coming  from  all  the  plantations  ? 
And  what  good,  I  want  to  know,  is  the  patrole  gwine  to 
be,  when  the  bridge  set  afire,  go  splash  in  the  water, 
and  white  folks  got  nowhere  to  go?" 

"How  we  gwine  to  get  out,  wonder?"  said  the  mis 
giving  Jack. 

"  You  great  big  black  fool  of  a  nigger,"  cried  Jerry, 
in  a  contemptuous  tone,  "  think  they  won't  set  fire  to 
the  old  jail  fust  of  all  ?  Can't  get  'long  without  Jerry, 
I  know !" 


484  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"Look  a  here,  Jerry — wish  I'd  never  had  nothing 
to  do  with  this  business.  Hain't  had  no  peace  of  mind 
since  it  was  sot  a  going.  'Tain't  right,  killing  and  burn- 
ing folks  in  the  dark — folks  as  done  well  by  a  body,  too. 
Don't  think  we  gwine  to  better  ourselves,  arter  all." 

"  There's  no  use  in  talking  to  a  fool,"  cried  the  lordly 
Jerry ;  "  but  you  better  mind !  If  you  let  out  on  it, 
one  syllable,  you'll  swing  up  by  that  black  neck  of 
yourn,  way  up  yonder  on  the  pine  tree !  Don't  you 
know  what  the  preacher  said?" 

"  Shouldn't  think  the  Lord  would  send  that  sort  of 
preacher.  Well !  he  know  best,  sure  enough.  Tell  you 
what,  Jerry — I'm  gwine  to  sleep.  Bimeby  you'll  find 
out  what  a  raal  fool  means.  'Spect  you  think  you  my 
massa  aready — hi !" 

"  Shut  your  mouth  and  go  to  sleep,"  said  Jerry,  who, 
though  he  addressed  such  imperious  language  to  his 
brother  prisoner,  uttered  it  in  a  tone  of  good-natured 
contempt,  as  if  he  were  more  in  jest  than  earnest. 
Silence  followed  this  last  injunction,  which  was  soon 
interrupted  by  a  snoring  sound,  implying  that  the  order 
was  obeyed. 

The  jailer's  wife  turned  from  the  door  and  walked 
softly  back  to  the  fire,  shivering  in  every  limb.  Lean- 
ing her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her  head  upon  her 
hands,  she  revolved  in  her  mind  the  startling  hints  she 
had  just  heard,  and  the  best  course  of  conduct  for  her 
to  pursue.     As  we  said  before,  she  was  a  woman  of 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        485 

great  energy  of  character ;  and  though  horror-stricken 
at  the  plot  just  unfolded,  she  was  not' intimidated.  The 
idea  that  Providence  had  made  her  the  instrument  of 
discovering  a  conspiracy  so  dark  and  deadly,  gave  her  a 
moral  courage  and  determination  appropriate  to  the 
emergency.  Her  husband  being  absent,  she  resolved  to 
act  on  her  own  responsibility.  Not  being  able  to  sleep, 
she  watched  with  impatience  the  dawning  day,  thinking 
the  morning  twilight  had  never  lingered  half  so  long. 

After  having  sent  the  prisoners  their  usual  breakfast, 
she  filled  a  plate  with  nice  things  from  her  own  table,  and 
went  to  the  grate  of  Jerry's  cell.  His  was  the  master 
spirit,  and  the  one  she  was  resolved  to  bring  under  her 
influence. 

"  Here,  Jerry,"  said  she,  "  if  you  didn't  sleep  more 
than  I  did  last  night,  I  thought  you  might  feel  poorly 
this  morning,  and  would  relish  a  mouthful  of  my  break- 
fast." 

"  Missus  mighty  good,"  answered  Jerry,  gloating  over 
the  plate  with  eager,  devouring  eyes ;  "  but  what  make 
her  think  I  didn't  sleep  ?  Slept  like  a  top  all  night 
long.     Wonder  what  made  missus  keep  awake  !" 

"  I'll  tell  you  presently,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  want  to 
ask  you  one  question  before  I  begin.  Have  I  not  been 
kind  to  you,  Jerry  ?  Have  I  not  done  all  I  could  for 
you  and  Jack,  and  treated  you  just  as  well  as  if  you 
were  white  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  you  have,  missus ;  but  what  make  you  ax 


486  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

me  that  now?"  The  eyes  of  the  negro  glanced  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  without  looking  towards  her,  and 
the  muscles  about  his  mouth  began  to  twitch. 

"  Have  you  a  cruel  master,  Jerry,  and  a  bad  mis- 
tress?" 

"No,  missus,  not  as  I  know  of:  got  nothing  to  com- 
plain of.  Never  worked  at  home  much — work  out  by 
the  job.  Pay  so  much  to  massa ;  all  I  make  over,  keep 
myself." 

"  Have  you  had  hard  times  getting  work  ?  Do  the 
people  cheat  you  out  of  your  money?" 

"  No,  missus  !  good  work,  good  pay,  or  Jerry  wouldn't 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Always  got  'long  mighty 
well  'bout  money." 

"Then,  Jerry,"  said  she,  fixing  her  eyes  resolutely 
on  his  face,  and  speaking  in  a  calm  deliberate  tone, 
"what  do  you  want  to  kill  me  for,  if  I  am  your  friend ? 
and  your  master  and  mistress,  if  they  have  been  good  to 
you?  and  the  white  people,  if  they  have  never  abused 
you  ?     What  put  such  a  thing  as  that  in  your  head  ?" 

So  quietly  and  coolly  she  questioned  him,  one  might 
have  supposed  she  was  asking  him  how  he  liked  the 
breakfast  she  had  brought  him.  The  negro  winced 
under  her  steadfast  gaze,  and  his  hands  trembled  so  that 
the  plate  dropped  into  his  lap. 

"Don't  know  what  you  talking  'bout,"  said  he,  putting 
both  hands  to  his  head  and  rubbing  his  wool  till  it  stood 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        487 

up  fierce  and  grim  all  round  his  temples.  "  Sure  enough 
missus  must  he  crazy !" 

"  No,  Jerry !  I'm  in  my  right  mind,  thank  God  !  and 
you  soon  will  find  it  out.  I  heard  all  that  you  and  Jack 
said  last  night,  and  if  you  don't  tell  me  the  whole  plot, 
from  beginning  to  end,  you  shall  both  swing  from  the 
scaffold  into  flames  hotter  than  your  Christmas  bonfires." 

"Oh,  missus!"  cried  Jerry,  every  feature  working 
and  convulsed,  while  his  eye-balls  glowed  like  burning 
coals.  "  I  just  talking  in  my  sleep — knows  I  was.  Don't 
know  nothing  what  you  mean.  Hain't  got  nothing  'gin 
white  folks — never  did  have." 

"  There's  no  use  in  lying  to  me,  Jerry.  It  won't  do. 
Your  only  safety  now  is  in  speaking  the  truth,  and  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  On  no  other 
terms  can  you  have  one  hope  of  pardon.  I  am  going  to 
a  magistrate,  to  tell  him  all  I  have  discovered ;  and  you 
will  just  as  surely  be  hung  upon  the  scaffold  as  you  are 
sitting  on  that  bed  of  straw." 

Here  groans  and  ejaculations  from  the  next  cell  came 
gushing  through  the  chinks.  Jack  could  not  hold  in 
any  longer. 

"Oh,  Lord  a'mercy !  Lord  a'mercy!"  exclaimed 
Jack  ;  "wish  this  nigger  had  never  been  born  !" 

"Hush,  Jack!"  said  the  jailer's  wife;  "hush  that 
noise !  I'm  coming  to  you  presently.  Make  up  your 
mind,   Jerry.      Tell  everything  you  know,  and  get  a 


438  the  planter's  northern  bride 

good  chance  for  life,  or  choose  chains,  the  rope,  and  the 
scaffold." 

In  consequence  of  the  quiet  behaviour  of  the  negroes 
and  the  entreaties  of  Mrs.  Wood,  their  manacles  had 
;een  knocked  off,  and  their  limbs  were  now  free  as  her 

TO. 

Jerry  sprang  to  his  feet,  shaking  himself  as  the  shaggy 
mastiff  does,  when  the  fierce,  animal  nature  is  roused 
within  him.  He  looked  wild  and  desperate,  and  a  timid 
woman  would  have  fled  trembling  from  that  grated  win- 
dow. But  the  jailer's  wife  stood  her  ground  with  un- 
daunted mien,  and  kept  her  intrepid  eye  on  the  black, 
ignited  face  before  her. 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Jerry,"  said  she;  "you 
would  not  lift  a  finger  against  me  to  save  your  life. 
You  have  not  a  bad  heart.  You  have  been  set  on  by 
others,  who  would  destroy  you,  body  and  eoul,  if  you 
would  let  them.  Well !  I  am  going.  There  is  no  time 
to  be  lost:" 

"  Stop,  missus !"  exclaimed  the  negro.  "I  made  up 
my  mind." 

'  'Twon't  do  no  good  if  you  hain't,"  cried  Jack, 
through  the  chink.  "I'll  make  a  clean  breast,  if  I  be 
hanged  for't." 

The  plot,  as  related  by  Jerry,  with  occasional  episodes 
from  Jack,  was  cunningly  devised  and  deeply  laid. 
During  the  Christmas  holidays  there  was  to  be  a  general 
insurrection  in  the  surrounding  country,  and  the  rallying 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        489 

spot  was  the  city,  of  which  they  were  to  take  possession 
by  fire  and  sword.  Quantities  of  ammunition,  brought  in 
by  night,  by  secret  agents,  were  concealed  under  the 
African  church  and  in  the  old  cellars  of  houses  occupied 
by  negroes,  who  hired  their  own  time  of  their  masters. 
A  false  key  was  to  open  the  doors  of  the  arsenal ;  the 
bridge  was  to  be  set  on  fire ;  the  strongholds  of  wealth  and 
power  to  be  broken  up.  And  who  was  the  master  spirit 
that  raised  the  whirlwind,  and  was  to  direct  the  storm  ? 
What  power  had  lashed  the  peaceful  waters  into  wrath- 
ful foam,  and  was  rolling  them  on  in  waves  of  insurgency 
ever  the  land  ? 

It  was  he,  who,  clothing  himself  with  the  authority 
of  a  divine  mission,  and  gifted  with  an  eloquence  passing 
that  of  the  sons  of  men,  had  wrapped  his  influence,  like 
a  mantle  of  fire,  round  his  superstitious  victims,  and 
every  struggle  but  drew  the  burning  folds  tighter  and 
tighter.  When  prostrate  at  the  altar,  where  his  terrible 
representations  of  Almighty  wrath  had  driven  them,  he 
first  breathed  into  their  ears  his  insidious  designs.  He 
told  them  he  was  the  agent  of  the  Almighty,  and  that 
whoever  betrayed  his  counsel  would  be  doomed  to  ever- 
lasting punishment.  He  promised  them  riches,  honours, 
and  happiness  in  this  world,  and  crowns  of  glory  in  the 
next,  if  they  yielded  themselves  to  his  will,  in  faith  and 
trust.  The  robbery  of  the  bank  was  a  step  towards  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  The  money  was  needed  to  carry 
on  the  Lord's  work,  and  he  who  stretched  forward  the 


490  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

ooldest  hand  would  be  accounted  the  most  faithful  and 
profitable  servant. 

The  next  step  taken  by  this  firm  and  resolute  woman, 
was  to  go  for  a  magistrate,  to  whom  the  statement  was 
repeated,  and  taken  down  in  writing.  He  enjoined 
upon  her  perfect  secrecy,  till  the  authorities  of  the  city 
had  decided  upon  the  proper  measures  to  be  taken  in  an 
affair  of  such  vital  importance. 

That  evening  Moreland  was  called  away,  and  re- 
mained till  a  late  hour.  When  he  returned,  Eula  noticed 
at  the  first  glance  that  something  unusual  had  occurred. 
He  was  very  pale,  his  eyes  seemed  to  wear  a  darker  hue, 
and  there  was  no  love-smile  as  usual,  responding  to  the 
greeting  smile  of  his  wife. 

"Where  is  Albert?"  he  asked;  and  never  had  Eula 
heard  his  voice  sound  so  stern  and  unnatural. 

"  I  suppose  he  is  in  the  kitchen,"  answered  Eula.  "  I 
have  not  seen  him  during  the  evening." 

Moreland  rung  the  bell  with  such  force  that  a  quick, 
startling  peal  rung  echoing  through  the  house.  Becoming 
more  and  more  alarmed,  Eula's  fears,  winged  by  natural 
affection,  flew  to  her  native  home,  and  imagined  a  thou- 
sand ills,  whose  tidings  had  just  reached  him,  and  which 
he  would  fain  conceal  from  her. 

"  Oh,  Moreland,  tell  me  what  has  happened !"  she 
asked,  in  tremulous  accents.  "  Have  letters  from  the 
North  arrived  ?     Do  they  contain  evil  for  me  ?" 

"The  North!"  repeated  he,  almost  fiercely.     "No, 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  491 

Eula !  "Would  to  Heaven — "  He  paused,  and  added 
in  an  altered  accent — "Do  not  question  me,  my  dear 
wife.  I  am  hardly  master  of  myself;  but  be  assured, 
that  as  far  as  I  know,  your  Northern  friends  are  well. 
You  have  no  cause  for  apprehension,  believe  me.  Al- 
b  rt,"  said  he  to  the  mulatto  as  he  opened  the  door, 
"  put  the  black  horse  in  the  buggy  directly,  and  bring  it 
round  to  the  gate.  I  am  going  to  start  for  the  planta- 
tion, and  you  must  go  with  me." 

"To-night!"  exclaimed  Eula.  "Oh!  not  to-night! 
The  sky  is  dark  and  lowering !  You  will  not  go  to- 
night!" 

"  I  must,  my  Eula ;  there  is  no  alternative.  I  wish 
I  were  not  obliged  to  leave  you  and  my  children.  Al- 
bert, why  don't  you  obey  me  ?  Must  I  repeat  my  com- 
mands a  second  time  ?" 

"  Oh,  master,  don't  go  to  the  plantation !  Don't 
leave  mistress  and  the  children  here  !"  cried  Albert,  his 
golden  complexion  changing  to  a  gray,  ashen  hue,  and 
his  eyes  expressing  the  very  agony  of  supplication. 

"  And  why  should  I  not  go  ?"  demanded  he,  sternly. 
"  Do  you  know  of  any  evil  threatening  me  there  that 
you  keep  back  from  my  knowledge  ?  Have  you  turned 
traitor  to  the  master  who  has  so  loved  and  trusted  you, 
Albert?" 

"No,  dear  master,"  cried  he,  throwing  himself  at  his 
feet,  and  winding  his  arms  round  his  knees,  "  I  wouldn't 
harm  you  or  mistress  for  a  thousand  worlds ;  but  there's 


492  THE   PLANTER  S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

them  that  will !  Don't  go  to  the  plantation,  master ! 
That  preacher  you  sent  there — oh  !  Mars.  Russell — he 
made  me  swear  on  the  Bible  not  to  tell  what  he  was 
going  to  say,  or  I'd  told  on  him  long  ago.  I  wouldn't 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  they  never  let  me  know 
nothing  since.  He  says  I'll  lose  my  soul  for  a  false  oath  ; 
but  I'll  lose  body  and  soul  'fore  I  see  harm  happen  to 
you  and  mistress.  Oh !  Mars.  Russell,  don't  go  to  the 
plantation  ! — don't  go  where  Mars.  Brainard  is !  Don't 
think  Albert  would  turn  against  you  ! — no,  he  die  first !" 

The  mulatto  wept  bitterly,  as  he  lay  grovelling  at  his 
master's  feet,  entreating  his  forgiveness,  and  imploring 
him  to  take  care  of  himself  and  "Miss  Eula." 

"Rise,  Albert,"  said  his  master.  "I  am  glad  you 
have  told  me  this,  but  I  knew  it  all  before.  I  can  no 
longer  trust,  though  I  may  forgive.  My  wife,  there  is 
no  cause  for  these  pale  cheeks,  this  trembling  frame. 
There  is  no  danger,  for  everything  is  discovered.  The 
moment  there  is  a  suspicion  of  a  plot,  there  is  safety. 
Every  one  is  on  the  watch.  A  strong  patrole  will  guard 
the  city  every  night,  and  all  the  night.  You  are  sur- 
rounded by  friends,  under  whose  guardianship  you  will 
be  as  safe  as  at  this  moment,  in  my  enfolding  arms. 
Would  to  heaven  I  were  not  compelled  to  leave  you ! 
but  the  serpent  is  spreading  his  venom  among  my  poor 
deluded  people,  and  I  must  go  and  save  them  from  his 
fangs !" 

"Let  me  go  with  you!"  cried  Eula,  clinging  to  him, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         493 

with  passionate  entreaty ; — "  let  us  take  our  children, 
and  go  together.  If  there  is  no  danger  for  you,  there 
is  none  for  me.  I  fear  not  for  myself;  but,  oh  !  let  me 
not  be  separated  from  you,  in  these  dark  and  troubled 
moments  !  Let  me  go,  my  husband ;  I  will  not  troub'e 
you  with  one  weak,  womanish  fear !" 

Moreland  looked  at  her  with  an  irresolute,  troubled 
countenance,  and  clasped  her  closer  to  his  breast. 

"Was  it  for  scenes  like  these,"  he  cried,  in  tones  of 
mingled  bitterness  and  sorrow,  "  that  I  took  you  from 
your  peaceful  village  and  quiet  home  ?  But,  oh  I  my 
Eulalia,  the  spoiler  came  from  your  Northern  region ; 
and,  under  the  sheltering  banner  of  the  Cross,  has  been 
working  the  deeds  of  hell !  His  birth-place  was  his 
passport, — his  holy  calling  his  protection  from  suspicion. 
Am  I  to  blame,  for  being  so  blindly  duped,  so  basely 
deceived?" 

"  No,  no  ! — but  let  me  go  with  you.  I  shall  die  if 
you  leave  me  behind !  With  you,  I  fear  nothing,  not 
even  death  itself!" 

"  I  know  not  what  to  do  !"  cried  Moreland,  his  heart 
yielding  to  the  pleadings  of  his  wife,  while  his  judgment 
condemned  its  weakness ;  "  it  is  agony  to  leave  you, — 
seems  madness   to  take  you!      And  Ildegerte, —  poo 
Ildegerte  !" — 

"  Take  her  with  us.     She  will  think  and  feel  as  I  do. 
Husband  and  brother,  as  well  as  master,  listen  to  our 
pleading  hearts !" 
166 


494  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

"  If  I  did  not  know  that  you  would  be  as  safe  there 
as  in  this  drawing-room,"  said  Moreland,  "I  never 
would  consent.  But  it  is  only  in  my  absence  the 
tempter  can  have  any  power.  I  know  my  own  influ- 
ence. The  moment  I  am  in  their  midst,  they  will 
return  to  their  allegiance,  ashamed  of  their  transient 
dereliction.  Well,  be  it  so,  then  ;  but  prepare  as  quickly 
as  Josephine  did,  when  she  followed  Napoleon  in  his 
midnight  tours.  Go,  Albert,  and  have  the  carriage 
ordered  as  well  as  the  buggy, — a  saddle-horse  besides." 

Eula,  who  felt  as  if  she  had  had  a  reprieve  from 
death,  in  permission  to  depart,  flew  to  Ildegerte,  and 
told  her  in  as  few  words  as  possible  all  that  had  trans- 
pired. To  the  crushed  heart  of  the  young  widow,  every- 
thing short  of  the  one  great  sorrow  that  had  darkened 
her  life  seemed  a  minor  consideration.  Like  Moreland, 
too,  she  felt  such  perfect  confidence  in  the  attachment 
of  their  slaves, —  she  believed  his  presence  only  was 
necessary  to  insure  their  obedience  and  returning  loy- 
alty. 

It  was  astonishing  with  what  celerity  and  ease  every- 
thing was  accomplished.  Kizzie,  though  bewildered  and 
half-terrified  at  the  summons,  took  the  sleeping  Effie  in 
er  arms,  while  Eula  cradled  the  infant  Russell  in  her 
own.  All  necessary  garments  were  previously  packed  ; 
and,  when  the  carriages  came  to  the  door,  the  whole 
party  were  in  readiness. 

A  threatened  insurrection  !     Eulalia  well  remembered 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         495 

the  horror  she  had  felt,  even  as  a  child,  at  the  bare  idea. 
She  remembered,  too,  that  her  father  had  justified  the 
act,  and  said  that  were  he  near  the  scene  of  action,  he 
should  think  it  his  duty  to  abet  and  assist  the  insurgent 
party.  Brainard  had  announced  himself  as  her  father's 
friend.  He  had  sat  down  at  his  board,  been  warmed  at 
his  fireside,  and  admitted  into  the  most  intimate  social 
communion  with  him.  Could  he  be  aware  of  his  secret 
designs  ?  Was  he  willing  to  sacrifice  his  daughter,  with 
more  than  Roman  stoicism,  to  the  fierce  spirit  of  philan- 
thropy, embodied  in  the  reckless,  cruel,  and  insidious 
Brainard  ?  She  could  not,  would  not  believe  it ;  but 
the  possibility  of  her  father's  being  in  collusion  with 
this  agent  of  darkness,  gave  her  unutterable  anguish. 
Strange  !  she  did  not  tremble,  now  she  was  brought  face 
to  face  with  a  reality,  whose  phantom  had  ho  often 
chilled  her  in  her  Northern  home.  Her  courage  rose 
with  the  occasion ;  and  since  she  was  permitted  to 
remain  at  her  husband's  side,  she  felt  that  whatever 
trials  were  in  reserve  for  him,  she  could  not  only  share 
them  with  the  devotion  of  a  wife,  but  endure  them  with 
the  spirit  of  a  martyr.  Gentleness,  sensitiveness,  and 
delicacy,  flowers  of  life's  sunshine,  had  always  blossomed 
in  her  heart.  Fortitude,  heroism,  and  self-renunciation, 
stars  of  the  night-shade  of  existence,  now  illuminated 
with  deepening  lustre  the  darkness  of  her  spirit.  And 
now  she  recalled  the  manner  in  which  he  had  spoken  of 
her  marriage,  and  of  Claudia's  right  to  her  child,  and 


496  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

his  words  lost  their  sting,  since  she  understood  the 
spirit  which  gave  them  utterance, — envy,  malice,  and  all 
uncharitableness,  and  a  fiendish  love  of  inflicting  pain. 

As  they  approached  the  plantation,  Moreland  became 
silent  and  abstracted.  The  dependencies  which  hung 
upon  him  were  heavier  than  the  chains  of  slavery,  and 
more  galling.  He  had  a  double  task  before  him, — to 
unmask  the  holy  traitor,  who  had  so  basely  requited  his 
hospitality  and  his  confidence,  and  unwind  his  coils  from 
the  necks  of  his  deluded  victims.  He  felt,  in  all  its 
venomed  power,  the  sting  of  ingratitude  and  treachery. 
He  had  fulfilled  the  duties  of  a  master  so  faithfully  and 
conscientiously,  bearing  them  not  only  on  his  mind,  but 
his  heart ;  had  laboured  so  assiduously  for  the  moral 
improvement,  as  well  as  happiness  of  his  slaves,  and  felt 
towards  them  so  tenderly  and  affectionately,  that  he 
could  not  think  of  their  disaffection  and  alienation  with- 
out bitterness  and  sorrow.  Yet  it  was  in  compassion, 
rather  than  anger,  that  he  regarded  them,  for  he  well 
knew  the  arts  which  had  seduced  them,  and  the  elo- 
quence which  had  swayed. 

Had  he  received  no  intimation  of  the  conspiracy,  he 
would  have  known  from  the  countenances  of  the  negroes 
that  an  under-current,  black  as  their  skins,  was  flowing 
beneath  the  smooth  surface  of  their  welcome.  Had  they 
been  thunder-stricken,  they  could  hardly  have  appeared 
more  smitten  than  by  the  unexpected  arrival  of  their 
master  and  his  family. 


'the  planter's  northern  bride.  497 

Moreland's  first  inquiry  was  for  Brainard.  He  had 
just  left  for  the  other  plantation.  How  long  since  ? 
About  ten  minutes.  Aha !  he  must  have  seen  their 
coming,  as  they  wound  round  the  hill,  which  looked  down 
on  the  cultivated  fields  and  smiling  plain,  which  More- 
land  had  never  before  greeted  without  an  emotion  of 
pleasure.  He  had  a  warrant,  given  him  by  the  city 
authorities,  to  arrest  the  villain,  whom  he  expected  to 
find  in  the  comfortable  quarters  he  had  assigned  him. 
For  one  moment  he  felt  an  impulse  to  pursue  the  traitor, 
whose  flight  was  sufficient  proof  of  his  cowardice  and 
perfidy;  but  the  next  he  dismissed  the  thought.  He 
could  not  leave  his  family  unprotected.  Let  him  go, — 
the  emissaries  of  justice  were  now  abroad  in  the  land, 
and  would,  sooner  or  later,  circumvent  his  ^ath.  Let 
him  go, — "Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,"  saith  the 
Lord. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

A  LONG,  winding  blast  of  the  bugle-horn  summoned 
the  labourers  from  the  field,  the  carpenter  and  black- 
smith from  their  shops,  the  spinsters  from  their  wheels, 
the  weaver  from  her  loom,  and  emptied,  as  if  by  magic, 
the  white-washed  cabins.  The  negroes,  one  and  all, 
had  been  told  to  attend  their  master's  call,  expressed  by 
that  sounding  blast.  It  was  just  before  the  sunset  hour, 
— one  of  those  mild,  glowing  days,  that  so  often  diffuse 
over  the  aspect  of  a  Southern  winter  the  blandness  of 
summer  and  the  haziness  of  autumn.  Eulalia  and  Ilde- 
gerte  stood  in  the  portico,  spectatresses  of  a  scene  which 
made  their  hearts  throb  high  in  their  bosoms.  Ilde- 
gerte's  eyes  flashed  with  excitement.  Eulalia's  cheek 
was  the  bed  of  its  coming  and  vanishing  roses.  She 
saw  her  husband  standing,  as  she  had  seen  him  once  be- 
fore, the  centre  of  a  dark  ring,  but  she  gazed  with  far 
different  emotions.  It  could  not  be  said  that  she  feared 
for  him.  His  superiority  was  so  manifest,  that  it  sug- 
gested, at  once,  the  idea  of  triumph — the  triumph  of 
mind  over  matter.     He  seemed  to  her  an  angel  of  light 

498 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.]  499 

surrounded  by  the  spirits  of  darkness,  and,  knowing  that 
he  was  defended  by  the  breastplate  of  righteousness, 
she  was  assured  of  his  safety  as  well  as  his  power. 

Moreland  waited  till  they  had  all  gathered,  and  they 
came  with  halting,  lingering  steps,  very  unlike  thei 
former  cheerful  alacrity;  then,  telling  them  to  follow 
him,  he  led  the  way  to  the  grave  of  the  old  prophetess, 
Dilsy,  at  whose  burial  he  had  made  with  them  a  solemn 
covenant,  which  he  had  kept  inviolate.  It  was  long 
since  any  of  them  had  approached  the  burying-ground. 
In  all  their  nightly  meetings  they  had  avoided  passing 
it,  fearing  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  would  sweep  their 
cold  wings  in  their  faces,  or  seize  them  with  their  stiff 
and  icy  fingers,  or  shriek  in  their  ear  some  unearthly 
denunciation.  As  they  walked  through  the  place  of 
graves,  the  long,  dry  yellow  grass  broke  and  crumpled 
under  their  steps,  and  the  brambles  twisted  round  their 
ankles.  They  had  neglected  their  dead.  The  autumn 
leaves  lay  thick,  damp,  and  rotting  on  the  sods  that 
covered  them,  choking  the  vines  and  plants,  which,  in 
happier  hours,  had  been  cultured  there 

Moreland  stopped  by  the  headstone,  which  his  own 
hand  had  placed  at  Dilsy's  grave,  and  indicated  by  a 
commanding  gesture  the  places  they  were  to  assume. 
Paul,  the  preacher,  stood  nearest  to  him,  his  arms  folded 
on  his  brawny  chest,  and  his  hoary  locks  of  wool  bent 
so  low  they  seemed  scattering  their  powder  on  the 
ground.     Vulcan,  the  blacksmith,  black  and  sullen  as  a 


500  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

thunder-cloud,  stood  on  his  left.  The  women,  who  had 
most  of  them  been  excluded  from  the  secret  deliberations, 
hung  timidly  in  the  rear,  curiosity  and  apprehension 
struggling  in  them  for  mastery.  And  beyond  the 
edge  of  the  burying-ground,  the  two  children  of  More- 
land, — the  one  holding  the  hand,  the  other  borne  in  the 
arms  of  Kizzie,  shone  in  the  innocence  of  infancy  and 
beauty  of  childhood,  on  the  gloom  and  duskiness  of  the 
scene. 

"More  than  two  years  have  passed,"  said  Moreland, 
his  eyes  glancing  from  face  to  face,  calmly  and  gravely, 
as  he  spoke,  "  since  I  stood  on  this  spot,  on  which  the 
grave-clods  had  just  been  thrown,  and  you  all  stood 
around  me  then,  just  as  you  are  gathered  now.  At  that 
hour,  I  renewed  the  vows  of  protection  and  kindness  to 
you  which  I  uttered,  when  a  boy,  in  the  ear  of  a  dying 
mother.  I  told  you,  if  I  ever  proved  unkind,  unjust, 
and  tyrannical,  if  I  ever  forgot  my  duties  to  you  as  a 
master  and  a  friend,  to  meet  me  here,  in  this  solemn 
enclosure,  and  remind  me  of  what  I  then  said.  You  all 
promised  then,  to  continue  faithful,  trustworthy,  and 
obedient,  and,  judging  of  the  future  Dy  the  past,  I  be- 
lieved you.  And  yet,"  he  added,  his  voice  deepening 
into  sternness  and  his  eye  kindling  with  indignation, 
"you  have  basely  deceived  me;  you  have  been  listening 
to  a  traitor  and  a  villain,  and  plotting  against  your  mas- 
ter and  your  friend.  Under  pretence  of  worshipping 
God,  you  have  been  engaged  in  the  service  of  Satan, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         501 

and  doing  the  work  of  devils.  I  know  all  your  horrible 
plans.  I  know  what  holiday  frolics  you  are  preparing. 
Which  of  you  has  a  word  to  say  in  his  defence  ?  Which 
of  you  can  look  me  in  the  face  and  say  he  does  not  de- 
serve the  severest  punishment,  for  treachery  and  ingra- 
titude to  a  master  as  kind  and  forbearing  as  I  have 
ever  been  ?  Paul,  you  have  taken  upon  you  the  office 
of  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  peace,  who,  on  all  occa- 
sions, are  the  voice  of  your  brethren;  look  up,  speak, 
and  if  you  have  one  word  to  say  in  your  justification  and 
theirs,  let  us  hear  it,  and  hear  it  quickly." 

"No,  massa!"  cried  Paul,  slowly  raising  his  head, 
without  lifting  his  eyes ;  "  got  noting  to  say — noting — 
only  Massa  Brainard." 

"Poor,  deluded  creatures!"  said  Moreland,  "poor, 
blind  tools  of  an  artful,  selfish,  false,  and  cold-hearted 
hypocrite,  who  cares  no  more  for  you  than  the  grass  you 
are  trampling  under  your  feet.  I  pity  you  ;  for  I  sent 
the  wretch  in  your  midst,  believing  him  to  be  a  man  of 
God.  He  has  beguiled  you  with  promises  of  freedom. 
What  is  the  freedom  he  can  offer  you?  Nothing  but 
poverty,  degradation,  and  sorrow.  If  you  could  com- 
pare your  condition  with  those  of  the  free  coloured  peo- 
ple at  the  North,  you  would  shudder  to  think  of  all  that 
you  have  escaped.  Listen  !  You  are  slaves,  and  I  am 
free ;  but  I  neither  made  you  slaves  nor  myself  a  free 
man.  We  are  all  in  the  condition  in  which  we  were 
born.     You  are  black,  and  I  am  white ;  but  I  did  not 


502  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

give  you  those  sable  skins,  nor  myself  this  fairer  com- 
plexion. You  and  I  are  as  God  Almighty  made  us, 
and,  as  I  expect  to  give  an  account  of  the  manner  in 
which  I  fulfil  my  duties  as  a  master,  so  you  will  be 
judged  according  to  your  fidelity,  honesty,  and  upright- 
ness as  servants.  The  Bible  says — '  Can  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin  ?'  No,  he  cannot !  but  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  he  should  have  a  black  heart,  because  his  skin 
is  black.  Free !  how  willingly  would  I  make  you  free 
this  moment,  if,  by  so  doing,  I  could  make  you  better 
and  happier !  Free !  I  would  to  heaven  you  were  all 
free, — then  I,  too,  should  be  free  from  a  burden  made 
intolerable  by  your  treachery  and  ingratitude  !  I  would 
rathe*',  ten  thousand  times,  cultivate  these  broad  fields 
myself,  than  be  served  by  faithless  hands  and  false, 
hollow  hearts.  I  have  hands  that  can  work.  I  would 
do  it  cheerfully,  if  labour  was  the  portion  God  had  as- 
signed me  in  this  world.  Better,  far  better,  the  toiling 
limbs,  than  the  aching  heart !" 

He  paused  a  moment  in  indescribable  emotion. 
Among  those  who  were  looking  earnestly  in  his  face, 
and  drinking  in  his  words  with  countenances  expressive 
of  shame,  remorse,  and  returning  devotion,  were  some 
who  had  been  the  playmates  of  his  childhood,  and  others 
in  whose  arms  he  had  been  dandled  and  caressed  when 
a  little  boy,  and  others,  again,  mere  boys  now,  whom 
he  had  made  the  playthings  of  his  youthful  years.  lie 
remembered  sitting,  many  and  many  a  time,  in  the  lap 


THE   PLANTER  8   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  503 

of  Paul,  under  an  old  tree,  teaching  him  to  read,  while 
the  negro  would  twist  his  dark  lingers  in  his  childish 
locks,  and  pray  God  Almighty  to  bless  him  and  make 
him  a  blessing  to  mankind.  A  sable  filament  was 
twisted  in  every  cord  that  bound  him  to  the  past.  The 
associations  of  bygone  years  rose  above  the  painful  and 
gloomy  present,  and  it  was  far  more  in  sorrow  than  in 
anger,  that  he  regarded  the  large  family  whom  the  most 
consummate  art  had  alienated  from  him. 

"Paul,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  preacher,  whose  head 
was  drooping  still  lower  on  his  breast,  and  whose  cheeks 
were  marked  by  a  wet,  shining  streak,  where  silent 
tears  were  travelling,  "Paul,  do  you  remember  Davy, 
to  whom  my  father  gave  his  freedom  many  years  ago, 
and  who  afterwards  bought  his  wife  and  settled  in  the 
State  of  New  York?" 

"Yes,  massa !" 

"  Here  is  a  letter,  which  I  received  from  him  a  few 
days  since.  I  will  read  it.  I  want  you  all  to  listen 
to  it."* 

Moreland  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket-book  and  read 
as  follows  : — - 

"  Dear  Young  Master  : — I  hope  you  have  not  for- 
gotten Davy,  though  you  was  a  little  boy  when  I  came 

*  This  is  a  genuine  fact,  and  the  gentleman  to  whom  the  letter  was 
addressed  complied  with  the  request  it  contained.  He  arrived  just  in 
time  to  receive  the  legacy  so  solemnly  bequeathed,  and  to  comfort, 
with  his  presence,  the  dying  negro. 


50-4  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

away.  I'm  very  sick  ;  the  doctor  says  I  can't  live  long. 
I'm  willing  to  die;  but  there's  one  great  care  on  my 
mind.  I  don't  want  to  leave  my  wife  and  children  here. 
I've  made  a  considerable  property,  so  they  wouldn't  be 
in  want ;  but  that  ain't  all  a  person  wants,  master.  If 
I  had  life  before  me  again,  I'd  come  back  myself,  for 
I've  never  been  as  happy,  or  as  respectable,  as  when  I 
lived  with  old  Master.  I  heard  so  much  talk  about  the 
white  people  at  the  North  being  such  friends  to  the 
blacks,  I  thought  we'd  be  on  perfect  equality ;  but  it's 
no  such  thing.  They  won't  associate  with  us ;  and  I 
never  want  my  wife  and  children  to  put  themselves  on  a 
level  with  the  free  negroes  I  see  here, — they  are  a  low, 
miserable  set,  and  folks  that  respect  themselves  won't 
have  anything  to  do  with  them.  My  dear  young  mas- 
ter, please  come  on,  or,  if  you  can't  come  yourself,  send 
somebody  to  take  back  my  wife  and  children, — I  have 
but  two  daughters,  if  they  were  boys  I  would  not  care 
so  much.  I  give  them  to  you,  just  as  if  they  had  never 
been  free.  I  bequeath  you  all  my  property  too,  and 
wish  it  was  more.  Oh  !  happy  should  I  be,  could  I  live 
to  see  the  son  of  my  dear  old  master  before  I  die, — but 
the  will  of  God  be  done.  I've  got  somebody  to  write 
this  letter  for  me,  for  I  am  too  weak  to  sit  up ;  but  I'll 
put  my  name  to  it,  that  you  may  know  it  comes  from 

Davy. 
"If  you  can't  come  or  send  directly,  please  write  a 
line,  just  to  ease  my  dying  thoughts." 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         505 

"This  letter,"  said  Moreland,  "was  dictated  by  one 
who  has  tasted  the  joys  of  freedom,  as  it  exists  among 
the  black  people  at  the  North.  His  condition  is  far 
better  than  the  majority,  for  he  has  acquired  property, 
while  most  of  them  are  miserably  poor.  Listen  to  me, 
sons  and  daughters  of  Africa !  If  I  thought  freedom 
would  be  a  blessing  to  you,  it  should  be  yours.  East, 
West,  or  North,  anywhere,  everywhere,  you  might  go, 
and  I  would  bid  you  God  speed ;  but  I  would  as  soon 
send  those  poor  sheep  on  the  hill-side,  among  ravening 
wolves,  as  cast  you  amid  such  friends  as  this  pretended 
minister  of  God  represents !  Which  of  you  wants  to 
trust  him  now  ?  Which  of  you  wants  to  leave  your 
master  and  follow  him  ?  Tell  me,  for  I  will  have  no 
Judas  in  the  field,  ready  to  betray  his  too  kind  and 
trusting  master  !" 

"  Oh,  massa  I"  exclaimed  Paul, — completely  subdued 
and  melted,  and  sinking  down  on  his  knees,  right  on  the 
grave  of  Dilsy, — "  forgive  us  !  Don't  send  us  away  ! 
Trust  us  once  more !  We've  ben  'ceived  by  Satan,  and 
didn't  know  what  we  were  doing!" 

The  moment  Paul  prostrated  himself  before  his  mas- 
ter, all  but  one  followed  his  example,  entreating  for 
pardon,  and  imploring  with  tears  and  sobs  not  to  be 
sent  away  from  him.  Vulcan,  the  blacksmith,  stood 
firm  and  unmoved  as  the  anvil  in  his  forge.  All  his 
dark  and  angry  passions  had  been  whetted  on  the  edge 
of  the  murderous  weapons  hidden  beneath  his  shop,  and 


506  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

made  red  not  by  the  flames  of  the  midnight  furnace. 
His  stubborn  knees  refused  to  bend,  and  a  sullen  cloud 
added  luridness  to  his  raven-black  face. 

Moreland  and  he  stood  side  by  side  ; — all  the  rest  were 
kneeling.  The  beams  of  the  departing  sun  played  in 
golden  glory  round  the  brow  of  Moreland ;  the  negro 
seemed  to  absorb  the  rays, — he  looked  of  more  intense, 
inky  blackness. 

"Vulcan!"  said  his  master,  "if  you  expect  my  for- 
giveness, ask  it.  Dare  to  resist  me,  and  you  shall  feel 
the  full  weight  of  my  indignation." 

"I'm  my  own  master,"  cried  the  blacksmith,  in  a  mo- 
rose, defying  tone.  "I  ain't  a  gwine  to  let  no  man  set 
his  feet  on  my  neck.  If  the  rest  are  a  mind  to  be  fools, 
let  'em!"  and  he  shook  his  iron  hand  over  the  throng, 
and  rolled  his  bloodshot  eyes,  like  a  tiger  ready  to 
spring  from  its  lair. 

The  face  of  Moreland  turned  pale  as  marble,  and 
lightnings  kindled  in  his  eyes.  To  brute  force  and  pas- 
sion he  had  nothing  to  oppose  but  moral  courage  and 
undaunted  will;  but  he  paused  not  to  measure  his 
strength  with  the  muscles  swelling  out,  like  twisting 
serpents,  in  the  negro's  brandished  arm.  Laying  his 
right  hand  commandingly  on  his  shoulder,  he  ex- 
claimed:— 

"  There  is  but  one  master  here.  Submit  to  his  autho- 
rity, or  tremble  for  the  consequences  !" 

Suddenly  wrenching  his  shoulder  from  the  hand  that 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  5(<7 

grasped  it,  the  blacksmith  leaped  forward,  and  seizing 
his  master  in  his  gigantic  arms,  was  about  to  hurl  him 
to  the  ground,  when  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  back  of 
his  head  laid  him  prostrate  and  stunned  at  Moreland's 
feet.  So  sudden  had  been  the  attack,  so  instantaneous 
the  release,  that  Moreland  was  hardly  conscious  how  it 
had  been  effected,  till  the  sight  of  Paul,  standing  with 
dilated  nostrils  and  panting  chest  over  the  fallen  giant, 
and  brandishing  with  both  hands  a  massy  rail,  which 
had  been  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  grave,  made  him  aware 
who  his  deliverer  was. 

"Let  me  kill  'em,  massa — let  me  kill  'em,"  cried 
Paul,  swinging  the  rail  above  his  head,  and  planting  his 
foot  on  the  broad  breast  of  the  rebel. 

"Stop!"  cried  Moreland;  "in  the  name  of  God, 
stop  !  He  may  be  dead  already  !  Let  him  be  carried 
to  the  guard-house  and  there  taken  care  of.  Give  him 
in  charge  to  the  overseer." 

Four  of  the  stoutest  negroes  sprang  forward,  eager  to 
show  their  recovered  zeal  and  loyalty,  and  lifted  up  the 
heavy  mass  of  insensible  flesh,  which  they  would  have 
beaten  to  jelly  in  their  indignation,  so  powerful  was  the 
reaction  of  their  feelings. 

"Paul,"  said  Moreland,  holding  out  his  hand,  "true 
and  faithful  servant  yet !  Let  the  past  be  forgotten,  or 
remembered  only  to  forgive!" 

"  Oh  !  dear  massa  !"  cried  Paul,  dropping  the  rail,  and 
throwing  his  arms  round  Moreland's  shoulders,  he  wept 


508  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

and  sobbed  like  a  child, — "  you're  safe  and  alive  yet ! 
Bless  a  Lord  Almighty  !  Paul's  heart  always  was  right, 
but  he  got  a  mighty  poor  head  of  hisn." 

When  Moreland  seemed  under  the  ruffian  grasp  of 
Vulcan,  the  women  uttered  the  most  terrible  screams ; 
but  wilder  and  more  piercing  than  all  the  rest  was  the 
shriek  that  issued  from  the  portico,  that  commanded  a 
full  view  of  the  scene.  Eulalia  and  Ildegerte,  who  were 
standing  with  arms  interlaced,  gazing  on  what  to  them 
was  an  exciting  pantomime,  for  they  could  not  hear  one 
syllable  of  what  was  uttered,  beheld  the  giant  leaping 
on  his  master,  and  believed  it  the  signal  of  death.  How 
they  reached  there  they  knew  not,  for  the  place  was  at 
some  distance  from  the  house, — but  they  found  themselves 
forcing  their  way  through  the  ring  just  as  Paul  was 
weeping  on  his  master's  shoulder. 

"All  is  safe!"  cried  Moreland,  as  they  threw  them- 
selves into  his  arms,  clinging  to  him  in  an  agony  of 
emotion — "  all  is  well !  Look  up,  my  Eula  !  Sister,  be 
not  afraid ;  it  is  all  over  !  Here  is  Paul,  who  is  ready 
to  die  in  my  defence." 

"  Me  too,  master  !"  cried  Albert,  with  glistening  eyes ; 
"Paul  struck  'fore  I  got  a  chance,  or  I  would  have 
killed  him !" 

The  little  golden-brown  head  of  the  infant  Russell 
was  seen  peeping  behind  the  ring,  like  a  sunbeam  play- 
ing on  the  cloud-edge.  Kizzie,  nearly  distracted,  had 
pressed  as  close  as  possible  to  the  scene  of  action,  after 


m 
THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         509 

the  terrible  rebel  was  secured ;  and  the  infant,  excited 
by  the  tumult,  clapped  its  cherub  hands,  and  glanced  its 
beautiful  hazel  eyes  from  face  to  face  with  innoceut 
curiosity. 

"Bring  that  child  here,"  said  Moreland;  and  Albert, 
springing  forward,  bore  it  in  triumph  over  the  woolly 
heads  between,  to  his  master's  extended  arms. 

"  This  child,"  said  he,  raising  it  aloft  in  its  smiling 
beauty,  "is  your  future  master.  With  its  first  lessons 
of  obedience  to  his  parents  and  love  to  his  God,  he 
shall  be  taught  his  duties  to  you,  and  yours  to  him. 
Born  and  brought  up  in  your  midst,  he  will  learn  to 
regard  you  as  a  part  of  his  own  life  and  soul.  I  trust, 
with  the  blessing  of  God,  he  will  live  to  be  a  better, 
wiser,  kinder  master  than  I  have  ever  been,  and  watch 
over  your  children's  interests  when  I  am  laid  low  in  the 
grave." 

The  infant,  delighted  with  its  elevated  position, 
laughed  in  its  glee,  while  the  negroes  gazed  upon  both 
father  and  child  as  beings  of  a  superior  world. 

The  admiration,  love,  and  devotion  which  the  negro 
feels  for  the  children  of  a  beloved  master,  is  one  of  the 
strongest,  most  unselfish  passions  the  human  heart  is 
capable  of  cherishing.  The  partition  wall  of  colour  is 
broken  down.  The  sable  arms  are  privileged  to  wreathe 
the  neck  of  snow,  the  dusky  lips  to  press  soft  kisses  on 
the  cheek  of  living  roses.  And,  though,  in  after  years, 
the  child  feels  the  barrier  of  distinction  drawn  by  the 
167 


510  THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE. 

Creator's  hand,  in  infancy  it  clings  with  instinctive 
affection  to  the  dark  bosom  that  nurses  it,  and  sees  only 
the  loving  heart  through  the  black  and  sooty  skin.  If 
such  are  the  feelings  which  infancy  usually  inspires,  it 
is  not  strange  that  the  child  of  such  a  master  as  More- 
land  should  be  an  object  of  idolatry,  for,  notwithstanding 
they  had  been  tempted  from  their  allegiance  by  the 
irresistible  arts  of  Brainard,  the  principles  of  strong 
affection  and  undying  loyalty  existed  in  their  hearts, 
and  now  throbbed  with  renovated  vitality — with  the 
exception  of  the  fierce  and  rebellious  artisan.  His  was 
one  of  those  animal  natures  which,  having  had  a  scent 
of  blood  in  the  breeze,  snuffed  it  with  savage  delight, 
and,  being  baffled  of  its  prey,  revenged  itself  for  its  un- 
slaked thirst  in  roars  of  defiance  and  deeds  of  violence. 
He  was  now,  however,  incapable  of  inflicting  farther 
injury.  The  well-aimed  blow  of  Paul,  though  not  mor- 
tal, had  caused  a  terrible  concussion  in  his  system,  from 
which  he  was  likely  long  to  suffer ;  and  he  was  also 
strongly  guarded. 

That  night  the  deepest  tranquillity  brooded  over  the 
plantation.  The  stormy  elements  were  hushed ;  the  late 
troubled  waters  subsided  into  a  peaceful  yet  tremulous 
expanse.  Eula,  exhausted  by  the  agitation  of  the  seve- 
ral preceding  days,  slept  as  quietly  as  the  babe  that 
rested  on  her  bosom.  But  no  sleep  visited  the  wakeful 
eyes  of  Moreland.  He  went  abroad  into  the  stillness, 
the  solemnity  and  loneliness  of  night,  and  beyond  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         511 

clear  and  illimitable  moonlight,  lie  looked  into  the  dark- 
ening future.  The  clouds  of  the  preceding  night  were 
all  swept  away,  and  the  moon  glided,  slowly,  majesti- 
cally, radiantly  over  the  blue  and  boundless  firmament, 
a  solitary  bark  of  silver  navigating  the  unfathomable 
ocean  of  ether.  Moreland  walked  through  the  long 
rows  of  cabins,  whose  whitewashed  walls  reflected,  with 
intense  brightness,  the  light  that  illumined  them,  and 
envied  the  repose  of  the  occupants.  The  signs  of  the 
times  were  dark,  and  portentous  of  disunion  and  ruin. 
The  lightnings  might  be  sheathed,  but  they  were  ready, 
at  any  moment,  to  rend  the  cloud  and  dart  their  fiery 
bolts  around.  Supposing,  for  one  moment,  the  full  tri- 
umph of  fanaticism,  how  fearful  would  be  the  result ! 
The  emancipation  of  brute  force ;  the  reign  of  animal 
passion  and  power ;  the  wisdom  of  eighteen  centuries 
buried  under  waves  of  barbarism,  rolling  back  upon  the 
world  ;  the  beautiful  cotton-fields  of  the  South  left  neg- 
lected and  overgrown  with  weeds  ;  the  looms  of  the 
North  idle  for  want  of  the  downy  fleece,  and  England, 
in  all  her  pride  and  might,  bleeding  from  the  wound  her 
own  hands  had  inflicted.  None  but  the  native  of  a  tro- 
pic zone,  physically  constructed  to  endure  the  heat  of  a 
Southern  clime,  can  cultivate  its  soil  and  raise  its  staple 
products.  That  the  African,  unguided  by  the  white 
mans  influence,  would  suffer  the  fairest  portions  of 
God's  earth  to  become  uncultivated  wildernesses,  let  St. 


512  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Domingo,  Jamaica,  and  the  emancipated  islands  bear 
witness.  Suppose  the  triumph  of  fanaticism,  agriculture 
would  inevitably  languish  and  die  ;  the  negro,  as  well  as 
the  white  man,  would  not  only  sink  into  an  abyss  of 
poverty  and  ruin,  but  the  withered  energies,  the  decay- 
ing commerce,  and  expiring  manufactures  of  the  North 
would  show  the  interests  of  the  two  different  sections  of 
our  common  country  to  be  connected  by  as  vital  a  liga- 
ment as  that  which  unites  the  twin-born  brothers  of 
Siam.  Let  the  death-stroke  pierce  the  bosom  of  one, 
the  other  must  soon  become  a  livid  and  putrifying 
corpse. 

If  it  be  God's  will  that  our  country,  so  long  the  boast 
and  glory  of  the  ge,  should  become  its  byword  and 
reproach ;  if  the  Genius  of  America  is  to  be  driven 
from  her  mountain  heights  into  the  dens  and  caves  of 
earth,  weeping  over  her  banner  insulted,  its  stars  extin- 
tinguished,  its  stripes  rent  asunder,  with  none  left  to 
vindicate  its  rights ;  if  the  beauty,  order,  and  moral 
discipline  of  society  are  to  be  resolved  into  the  gloom 
and  darkness  of  chaos,  the  silver  chords  of  brotherhood 
snapped  asunder,  and  the  golden  bowl  of  union  for  ever 
broken : — if  it  be  God's  will,  let  man  lay  his  hand  upon 
his  mouth,  and  his  mouth  in  the  dust,  and  say, 

"It  is  good!" 

But  let  him  beware  of  mistaking  the  traces  of  human 
Weakness  and  passion  for  the  stately  footprints  of  the 


THE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN   BRIDE. 


513 


Almighty,  lest  the  Lord  come  in  judgment  and  avenge 
his  insulted  majesty ! 

Such  were  the  thoughts  that  banished  sleep  from  the 
eyes  of  Moreland,  and  sent  him  abroad,  a  nocturnal 
wanderer,  in  the  holy  splendour  of  the  night.  His  feet 
involuntarily  turned  to  the  blacksmith's  shop.  It  was  a, 
lonely  path  that  led  to  it,  and,  just  before  it  reached 
the  building,  a  dense  thicket  of  pines  made  an  imper- 
vious shade,  black  and  heavy  by  contrast  with  the  beams 
beyond.  While  he  was  passing  through  the  shadows, 
and  about  to  emerge  into  the  light,  he  saw  the  figure  of 
a  man  stealing  cautiously  round  the  shop  and  approach- 
ing the  door.  A  low,  distinct  knock  was  heard,  repeated 
at  intervals.  He  was  sure,  from  the  outline,  that  it  was 
the  form  of  Brainard,  and  he  could  see  that  it  was  the 
face  of  a  white  man.  His  first  impulse  was  to  rush 
forward  and  seize  him, — his  next,  to  watch  his  farther 
motions.  Stepping  very  cautiously,  and  looking  round  at 
every  step,  the  figure  went  to  the  pile  of  brushwood  we 
described  in  a  former  chapter,  and  removed  it  from  the 
excavation.  Stooping  down  and  groping  his  way  under, 
he  disappeared,  while  Moreland,  accelerating  his  steps, 
reached  the  spot  before  he  had  time  to  emerge  again 
into  the  light.  He  could  hear  distinctly  the  clinking 
of  steel  under  the  house,  and  wondered  if  the  man  had 
engaged  some  subterranean  knight  in  conflict.  An  old 
door,  broken  from  its  hinges,  lay  upon  the  ground. 
Moreland  raised  it  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  and  putting 


514  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

it  up  against  the  opening,  planted  his  foot  firmly  against 
it, — thus  making  the  man,  whoever  he  was,  his  prisoner. 
The  sudden  darkening  of  the  moonlight,  which  streamed 
in  under  the  building,  made  the  intruder  aware  of  his 
situation,  and  he  came  rushing  against  the  barrier  with 
headlong  force ;  the  planks  vibrated  and  cracked,  but 
Moreland  stood  his  ground,  firm  as  a  rock. 

"  Vulcan,  Vulcan !  is  it  you  ?  For  God's  sake,  let 
me  out !  It  is  I !  Don't  you  know  my  voice  ?"  It  was 
the  voice  of  Brainard, —  not  the  sweet  music  he  was 
accustomed  to  breathe  from  the  pulpit,  but  the  sharp, 
quick,  startled  accents  of  fear. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Brainard,"  said  Moreland;  and  a 
proud  smile  curled  his  lip  at  the  ridiculous  and  humili- 
ating position  of  his  enemy.  "  I  hope  you  do  not  find 
yourself  uncomfortable  !  I  was  not  aware  that  you  had 
lodgings  there  before ;  but  I  believe  you  are  fond  of 
subterranean  works !" 

"Mr.  Moreland,"  exclaimed  Brainard,  "it  is  not  pos- 
sible that  it  is  you  who  are  opposing  my  egress  ?  Is 
this  the  treatment  that  one  gentleman  has  a  right  to 
expect  from  another?" 

"  Gentleman !"  repeated  Moreland,  in  an  accent  of 
withering  sarcasm  ;  "  coward  !  traitor  !  knave  !  too  vile 
for  indignation,  too  low  for  contempt !  Come  forth,  and 
meet  me  face  to  face,  if  you  dare  !  Rise,  if  you  are 
not  too  grovelling  to  assume  the  attitude  of  a  man !" 

Removing  his  foot  from  the  door,  it  fell  forward,  and 


THE  planter's  northern  bride.  515 

the  moon  again  shining  into  the  aperture,  revealed  the 
prone  and  abject  form  of  the  pretended  minister. 
Crawling  a  few  steps  on  his  hands  and  knees,  he  rose 
slowly,  for  his  limbs  were  cramped  and  stiff,  and  shook 
the  earth-soil  from  his  garments.  His  face  was  now 
directly  opposite  Moreland ;  and  from  his  blue,  half- 
closed  eyes,  the  unsheathing  daggers  of  hatred  and 
revenge  were  furtively  gleaming. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  asked  Moreland,  sternly, 
"  stealing  round  my  premises  at  the  midnight  hour,  bur- 
rowing like  a  wild  beast  in  the  earth,  after  having  fled 
like  a  coward  at  my  approach,  to  avoid  the  consequences 
of  detected  perfidy  ?" 

"  I  have  been  on  my  Master's  business,"  he  answered, 
looking  upward.  "  I  am  not  accountable  to  any  man, 
being  amenable  to  a  higher  law." 

"  Hypocrite !"  exclaimed  Moreland,  his  dark  eyes 
flashing  with  indignation,  "  away  with  this  vile  cant ! 
Throw  aside  the  cloak  with  which  you  have  tried  in  vain 
to  cover  your  iniquitous  plots  !  Everything  is  disco- 
vered. If  you  were  seen  now  in  the  city  whose  hospi- 
tality you  have  so  wantonly  abused,  you  would  fall  a 
sacrifice  to  the  vengeance  of  an  incensed  community 
We  are  safe,  thank  Heaven,  from  your  incendiary  pur 
poses ;  but  what  can  save  you,  bare  and  exposed  as  you 
are,  from  the  hands  of  an  outraged  public?" 

Brainard  was  in  such  a  position  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  escape.     On  one  side  was  a  jutting  beam,  an 


51G  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

abutment  of  the  building;  on  the  other,  the  pile  of 
brushwood  he  had  thrown  aside ;  before  him,  the  proud, 
resolute  form,  and  commanding  glance  of  the  man  he 
had  deceived  and  attempted  to  destroy.  By  what  sub- 
terfuge could  he  now  elude  the  doom  he  had  brought 
upon  himself? 

"Mr.  Moreland,"  said  he,  "I  have  sat  at  your  board, 
slept  in  your  bed,  and  broken  bread  at  your  table.  Even 
the  wild  Arab  will  protect  the  stranger  who  has  par- 
taken of  his  hospitality.  Will  you,  a  Christian,  do  less 
than  he?" 

"  Yes  ;  you  have  done  all  this,"  replied  his  host.  "  I 
know  it  but  too  well.  You  have  slept  in  my  bed  that 
you  might  strew  it  with  thorns,  fou  have  broken  my 
bread  that  you  might  infuse  into  it  poison  and  death. 
It  is  my  duty  as  a  Christian  to  incapacitate  you  for  the 
perpetration  of  new  crimes." 

"I  may  have  been  carried  farther  than  I  intended," 
said  he,  in  an  humble,  adjuring  tone ;  "  but  it  was  not 
for  myself  I  was  labouring.  I  have  been  made  the 
agent  of  others,  whose  cause  I  embraced  with  premature 
ardour.  I  have  been  misled  by  false  misrepresentations, 
to  adopt  a  course  which  I  now  sincerely  regret.  A 
candid  man,  Mr.  Moreland,  would  require  no  other 
apology." 

"  False  as  cowardly  !"  answered  Moreland.  "  If  you 
are  the  tool  of  a  party,  it  only  aggravates  your  mean- 
ness.     There  may  be  those  who  are  degraded  enough  to 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        517 

employ  a  wretch  like  you,  as  an  instrument  to  work  the 
downfall  of  the  South ;  but,  if  so,  they  must  be  the 
lowest  dregs  of  society.  There  may  be  men,  and  women 
too,  for  I  have  heard  of  such, — but  I  do  not  believe 
there  is  a  respectable  town  or  village  in  the  Northern 
States  that  would  not  consider  itself  disgraced  by  your 
conduct,  and  blush  for  the  opprobrium  which  you  have 
brought  upon  their  name.  I  have  travelled  in  the 
North, — I  know  the  spirit  of  the  times ;  but  I  know, 
too,  that  there  is  a  conservative  principle  there,  that 
would  protect  us  from  aggression,  and  itself  from 
ignominy." 

"It  matters  not  whose  agent  I  am,"  said  Brainard, 
bitterly.  "I  see  1  am  at  your  mercy.  Yet,  if  you  will 
suffer  me  to  depart  in  peace,  I  will  pledge  my  solemn 
word  to  leave  this  part  of  the  country,  immediately  and 
for  ever." 

"What  faith  can  be  put  in  promises  like  yours?  No, 
sir  !  The  day  of  blind  confidence  is  past.  I  arrest  you 
by  virtue  of  a  warrant  which  I  bear  about  me.  Come 
with  me,  till  better  accommodations  are  provided  for  you 
at  the  public  expense." 

Even  while  speaking  these  words,  Moreland  was  con- 
scious of  great  perplexity,  for  he  knew  of  no  place  of 
security  but  the  guard-house,  where  Vulcan  was  already 
imprisoned,  where  he  could  put  the  arch-traitor.  It  is 
true,  Vulcan  was  now  in  no  situation  to  be  influenced 
by  his  insidious  arts,  but  he  did  not  like  their  juxta- 


518  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

position.  Another  thing,  it  was  considerably  distant 
from  the  blacksmith's  shop,  and  it  would  be  no  easy 
task  to  conduct  a  desperate  and  infuriated  man  to  that 
place  of  confinement.  Still,  he  must  not  be  suffered  to 
escape,  so,  laying  a  firm  hand  on  his  shoulder,  he  com- 
manded him  to  follow  him.  Quick  as  a  flash  of  thought, 
Brainard  drew  a  bowie  knife  from  his  bosom  with  his 
free  right  hand,  and  made  a  plunge  at  Moreland's 
breast.  Moreland  saw  the  steel  glittering  in  the  moon- 
light, and  the  next  moment  might  have  been  his  last, 
but,  throwing  his  assailant  back  with  a  violent  jerk,  the 
stroke  glanced  in  the  air.  This  was  the  commencement 
of  a  life-struggle,  fierce  and  bloodthirsty  on  one  side, 
bold,  firm,  and  unrelaxing  on  the  other.  One  could 
hear  the  gritting  of  Brainard's  grinding  teeth,  as  he 
tried  to  release  himself  from  the  clenching  grasp  of  his 
antagonist.  Moreland  was  armed,  for,  at  this  time  of 
threatened  insurrection,  every  man  was  provided  with 
defensive  weapons,  but,  instead  of  drawing  his  own,  his 
object  was  to  get  possession  of  Brainard's  knife.  Had 
he  released  his  hold  one  second,  his  life  might  have  been 
the  sacrifice.  Once  or  twice  he  felt  the  sharp  steel 
gashing  his  left  arm,  but  he  heeded  it  not,  and  once,  in 
warding  off  a  deadly  blow  at  his  heart,  he  turned  the 
point  of  the  knife  and  it  plunged  in  Brainard's  right 
arm — the  arm  which  wielded  the  destructive  weapon. 
Moreland,  after  the  first  moment  of  exasperation  and 
excitement,  did  not  want  to  kill  him,  but  to  defend  him- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         519 

self,  and  incapacitate  him  from  further  mischief.  The 
knife  dropped  from  Brainard's  powerless  hand,  and  the 
blood  spouted  from  the  wound.  Moreland,  well  knowing 
it  was  not  a  mortal  stroke,  and  that  his  left  hand  still 
had  power,  snatched  the  knife  from  the  ground  an 
sheathed  it  in  the  folds  of  his  vest.  The  blood  was 
flowing  from  his  own  wounds,  but,  without  heeding  it, 
he  bound  his  handkerchief  round  Brainard's  arm,  who 
had  reeled  as  if  fainting,  against  the  walls  of  the  shop. 
He  looked  very  pale,  but  Moreland  could  plainly  see 
that  it  was  not  the  death-like  paleness  preceding  a 
swoon.  Still,  he  did  not  like  to  drag  him,  in  that  situa- 
tion to  the  guard-house,  and,  enfeebled  as  he  was,  he 
believed  he  could  leave  him  in  the  shop  with  safety, 
while  he  went  to  rouse  the  overseer  and  some  of  the 
strongest  hands,  to  assist  in  guarding  him,  and  he  him- 
self obtained  proper  materials  to  dress  his  wound.  The 
door  of  the  shop  was  usually  locked  at  this  hour,  but,  in 
consequence  of  Vulcan's  arrest,  who  had  the  charge  of 
it,  the  key  was  left  hanging  in  the  padlock — a  circum- 
stance fortunate  for  Moreland's  design.  The  wooden 
windows  were  barred  inside,  and  Vulcan,  while  prose- 
cuting his  midnight  labours,  had  added  iron  staples,  as 
a  greater  security  from  intrusion.  Had  Brainard  not 
been  disabled  by  his  wound,  Moreland  would  not  have 
dared  to  have  enclosed  him,  even  for  a  brief  time,  in  a 
place  where  the  weapons  of  deliverance  might  be  found 
in  the  massy  iron  tools  of  the  blacksmith ;  but  he  well 


f>20  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE. 

knew  that  the  arm,  whose  reeking  blood  had  already 
dyed  his  handkerchief,  could  not  wield  the  ponderous 
sledge-hammer  or  the  iron  bars. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  taking  him  by  the  left  arm,  "  come 
into  the  shop,  while  I  go  for  linen  and  balsam  to  dress 
your  wound.  I  presume  it  is  not  the  first  time  that 
you  have  found  shelter  in  its  walls." 

"Bring  none  of  your  linen  and  balsam  for  me,"  he 
answered,  "  I'll  none  of  it.  Put  me  where  you  please, 
it  makes  no  difference ;  I  scorn  and  defy  your  power  !" 

Though  he  spoke  in  a  faint  voice,  it  was  expressive 
of  malignity  and  revenge.  He  no  longer  resisted,  how- 
ever, and  Moreland,  drawing  rather  than  leading  him 
round  to  the  front  side  of  the  shop,  opened  the  door, 
sprang  upon  the  threshold  with  his  prisoner,  then  releas- 
ing him  suddenly,  he  sprang  back,  closed  and  locked 
the  door,  and  returning  to  the  rear  of  the  building, 
examined  the  shutters  on  the  outside. — It  would  not  do 
to  leave  them  without  some  barrier,  for  Brainard  might 
remove  the  inner  bar  with  his  left  hand,  and  leap  from 
the  window.  There  were  two  large  posts  lying  on  the 
ground,  which  seemed  left  there  for  his  peculiar  purpose, 
and  though  it  required  an  exertion  of  strength  to  lift 
them,  with  his  left  arm  weakened  and  painful  as  it  was, 
he  did  it  with  astonishing  celerity,  and  steadying  the 
lower  ends  against  the  old  fallen  tree,  suffered  the  upper 
ones  to  fall  heavily  upon  the  shutters,  just  below  the 
jutting  of  the  wood-piece  nailed   across   them,  and  in 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  521 

this  position  every  effort  to   open  the  windows  would 
only  make  the  posts  more  firm  in  their  resistance. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Moreland,  turning  away,  and 
directing  his  steps  towards  the  overseer's  dwelling-house. 
With  an  involuntary  impulse,  he  drew  forth  the  knife 
concealed  in  his  bosom,  and  suffered  the  moonlight  to 
gleam  upon  it.  Half  of  it  was  stained  with  blood,  the 
other  half  shone  cold  and  blue,  with  deadly  lustre,  in 
the  serene  glory  of  the  night.  He  shuddered  at  the 
temptation  he  had  momentarily  felt,  to  bury  it  in  the 
false  heart  of  Brainard,  and  blessed  his  guardian  angel 
for  covering  the  edge  of  the  weapon  with  his  interposing 
wings. 

The  chivalry  of  his  nature  had  received  a  painful 
wound.  He  had  discharged  an  imperative  duty,  but  in 
a  manner  revolting  to  the  magnanimity  of  his  character. 
He  had  felt  his  cheek  burn,  while  turning  the  key  of 
that  black  sooty  prison  on  a  wounded  enemy.  Had  he 
known  that  Brainard  was  familiar  with  even  more  gloomy 
walls,  that,  even  when  a  boy,  he  had  made  his  bed  on 
the  dungeon's  floor,  and  worn  the  felon's  badge  of  igno- 
miny, he  would  have  been  less  fastidious  with  regard  to 
his  accommodations. 

Having  awakened  the  overseer,  and  told  him  to  rouse 
immediately  several  of  the  stoutest  negroes,  including 
Uncle  Paul,  and  repair  to  the  shop,  which  they  were  to 
guard  during  the  remainder  of  the  night ;  he  began  to  feel 
the  necessity  of  having  his  own  wounds  attended  to, — 


522  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

though  not  deep,  the  flowing  of  the  unstanched  blood,  and 
the  straining  of  the  muscles  in  barricading  the  shutters, 
made  him  feel  weak  and  nerveless.  He  therefore  com- 
missioned the  overseer  to  act  as  leech,  as  well  as  guard, 
aad  sought  his  own  dwelling. 

Fearing  to  awake  his  wife,  and  alarm  her  by  th 
sight  of  his  blood-stained  garments,  he  entered  with 
noiseless  steps,  and  the  faint,  soft,  regular  breathing 
that  met  his  ear  gave  him  a  sensation  of  exquisite 
repose.  Eulalia  still  slept,  and  the  babe  still  slumbered 
on  her  bosom.  Again  the  image  of  the  virgin  mother 
and  the  infant  Jesus  rose  before  him,  as  when  he  had 
knelt  by  her,  when  reclining  over  the  cradle  of  her  son. 
And  once  more  he  knelt,  but  without  awakening  her, 
and  commended  them  both  to  the  God  of  the  South  as 
well  as  the  North, — "  to  the  Monarch,  and  Maker,  and 
Saviour  of  all !" 

"Ah,  my  sweet  wife !"  thought  he,  when,  rising  from 
his  knees,  he  looked  down  upon  her  with  unutterable 
tenderness,  "you  are  paying  a  sad  penalty  for  the  love 
that  lured  you  from  your  quiet  village  home.  Better 
had  it  been  for  you  had  I  left  you  near  the  shadow  of 
that  temple  where  your  seraph  voice  first  waked  the 
slumbering  music  of  my  heart." 

For  a  moment  he  had  forgotten  his  arm,  and  the 
blood-stains  on  his  dress ;  but  a  stiff,  painful  feeling  re- 
minded him  of  the  past  conflict,  and,  with  the  same 
noiseless  steps  with  which  he  had  entered,  he  left  his 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        523 

own  room,  and,  seeking  the  one  where  Albert  slept, 
committed  himself  to  his  healing  hands. 

In  the  mean  time  Brainard  was  not  idle.  When  left 
by  Moreland  in  the  grim  retreat  with  which  he  had  made 
himself  so  familiar,  he  stood  at  first  perfectly  still,  in 
the  centre  of  the  shop,  where  the  momentum  given  by 
Moreland's  releasing  arm  had  sent  him.  It  was  not 
utterly  dark,  for  silvers  of  moonshine  penetrated  the 
chinks  of  the  boards,  and  fell  on  the  blackened  planks. 
He  looked  round  him,  straightened  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  and  shook  his  left  arm  in  defiance,  as  if  facing 
an  invisible  enemy. 

"Fool!"  he  muttered.  "He  did  not  know  he  was 
dealing  with  an  ambidextrous  man.  There  is  as  much 
cunning  in  this  hand  as  in  that.  Does  he  think  these 
drops  of  blood  have  weakened  me  so  that  I  cannot  burst 
these  bars  and  free  myself  from  his  power  ?  Ha,  ha  ! 
I  played  the  part  of  a  fainting  man  to  put  him  off  his 
guard;  but  I  have  strength  enough  yet  to  perform  a 
good  night's  work.  These  shutters  are  nothing  but  old 
boards.  I'll  soon  shiver  them.  I'll  hurl  them  into 
fragments.  Yes,  yes  !  if  the  morning  find  me  a  prisoner 
here,  may  I  hang  from  the  gibbet,  and  the  fowls  of 
heaven  feed  upon  my  carcass  !" 

Guided  by  the  light  of  the  silver  bars  on  the  floor,  he 
seized  the  sledgehammer  with  his  left  hand,  and,  swing- 
ing it  high  in  air,  brought  it  down  upon  the  shutter  with 
a  tremendous  blow.     There  was  a  jarring  and  rattling 


524  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

of  boards,  and  a  cloud  of  black  dust,  but  Moreland's 
strong  barrier  resisted  the  effort. 

"Death  and  fury !"  he  exclaimed;  "are  the  boards 
lignum  vitas  ?  I'll  try  the  door.  If  I  cannot  break 
that  open,  I'll  spill  my  own  brains  on  these  planks  !" 

Swinging  the  huge  hammer  once  more,  he  hurled  i 
against  the  door  with  maniac  force.  Ha !  it  does  begin 
to  yield.  Bravo  !  strike  again.  They  hear  your  blows, 
to  be  sure,  but  they  think  the  horses  are  pounding  and 
kicking  in  the  stable,  as  they  are  wont  to  do.  Strike 
again ;  a  desperate  man  can  do  anything.  No  matter 
if  every  stroke  makes  the  blood  ooze  from  your  wounded 
veins,  and  the  sultry  sweat-drops  gush  from  your  pores. 
There  !  don't  you  see  the  hinges  strain,  tug,  crack,  and 
at  length  give  way  with  a  sudden  crash.  Jump  through  ! 
the  avengers  are  coming.  Make  haste !  they  are  in  the 
dark  path  now.     Remember  you  are  in  the  moonlight. 

Yes  !  Brainard  did  remember  all  this,  and  he  leaped 
through  the  opening  with  supernatural  agility,  flew, 
rather  than  ran  to  the  stable,  mounted  the  fleetest  horse, 
and  cut  the  air  like  the  arrow.  He  was  seen,  just  as 
he  reached  the  stable,  by  the  party  appointed  to  be  his 
guard.  Paul,  who  seemed  to  have  the  vigour  and  fire  of 
youth  miraculously  restored,  shouted  till  the  thicket 
reverberated  the  sound,  and  rushed  after  him,  his  long 
limbs  sweeping  over  the  ground  like  forked  lightning. 
The  overseer  and  other  negroes  followed,  but  they  could 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE.  525 

not  begin  to  keep  up  with  the  streaking  steps  of  Paul 
As  he  reached  the  stable  Brainard  leaped  into  the  road. 
Paul  was  on  the  back  of  Swiftsure,  one  of  his  master's 
strongest,  fleetest  horses,  with  the  quickness  of  thought, 
and  away  he  went  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive. 

"Good  Lord!"  cried  Paul,  "let  me  only  catch  'em! 
Just  let  massa  know  what  Paul  can  do  for  him !  Go  it, 
go  it,  Swiftshur  ! — wide  awake  !  wide  awake  ! — keep  a 
eye  open  ! — stretch  a  feet  apart ! — that  the  way  to  go  !" 

Paul  lay  almost  horizontally  on  the  barebacked  animal, 
grasping  his  mane  for  a  bridle,  his  body  thrown  up  and 
down  by  the  violence  of  the  motion.  Brainard  had 
saddle  and  bridle,  for  he  was  on  the  same  horse  which 
had  been  caparisoned  to  bear  him  from  the  plantation, 
just  before  Moreland's  arrival.  The  odds  were  in  his 
favour,  and  he  knew  it.  His  scornful  laugh  was  driven 
back  into  Paul's  face,  like  a  dash  of  cold  water.  Once 
he  reeled  in  the  saddle,  and  his  speed  perceptibly  slack- 
ened, and  the  shadow  of  his  pursuer  appeared  to  be 
leaping  on  his  back ;  but  just  as  Paul  stretched  out  his 
long  arm,  thinking  him  within  reach,  he  shot  ahead, 
with  dizzying  velocity,  and  Paul  grasped  a  handful  of 
moonbeams.  It  was  all  in  vain.  As  he  told  his  master 
the  next  day — "  The  devil  was  in  him,  and  one  might  as 
well  try  to  catch  hold  of  a  streak  of  lightning." 

All  the  time  Brainard  was  winging  his  way,  thought, 
swifter  than  his  flight,  was  darting  in  his  mind,  bringing 
168 


528  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

messages  from  the  future,  that  lit  up  his  countenance 
with  vindictive  joy. 

"  Oh  !  I  have  a  glorious  career  before  me,"  said  he  to 
himself,  dashing  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  smoking 
flanks, — for  he  had  equipped  himself  like  a  knight  when 
he  started  on  his  midnight  expedition.  "  I  have  planned 
it  all — and  when  did  I  ever  plan  without  executing  ? 
Who  says  I  have  failed  ?  I  tell  you,  you  lie,  sir.  I 
have  made  a  plenty  of  dupes.  The  flames  I  have  kin- 
dled will  not  be  quenched.  They  will  burst  out  afresh, 
when  people  think  they  are  gazing  on  ashes.  Yes !  I 
will  go  back  to  the  North,  and  deliver  such  lectures  on 
the  South  as  will  curdle  the  blood  with  horror.  No 
matter  what  I  say — I'll  find  fools  to  believe  it  all.  If  I 
pour  falsehoods  hot  as  molten  lead  down  their  throats, 
they  will  believe  them  all,  and  smack  their  lips  with 
delight.  Take  care,  Master  Moreland !  the  devil  shall 
be  an  angel  of  light  compared  to  the  foul  demon  I  will 
represent  you  to  be — you,  and  all  your  tribe.  Thank 
Heaven  for  the  gift  of  eloquence !  Oh !  I'll  rave  of 
blood-marked  chains,  of  flesh  torn  from  the  body  with 
red-hot  pincers,  of  children  roasted  alive,  of  women 
burned  at  the  stake  !  They'll  believe  it  all !  The  more 
liorrors  I  manufacture  the  more  ecstasy  they  will  feel ! 
Curses  on  the  arm  that  failed  to  pierce  his  heart's  core  ! 
Curses  on  Mm  for  every  drop  of  blood  he  has  drawn  ! 
But  I'll  have  my  revenge  ! — a  glorious  revenge  ! — ha  ! 
ba!" 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         527 

Away  with  him  !  Close  the  shutters  of  that  workshop 
of  Satan — his  breast.  We  shudder  at  the  glimpses 
revealed.  Let  him  go,  and  fill  up  the  measure  of  his 
iniquity :  brimming  as  it  now  seems,  it  is  not  quite  full. 
The  crowning  drop  must  be  blacker  than  all. 


CHAPTER    XXL 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Moreland  regretted  the  flight 
of  Brainard.  Detected  villany  is  no  longer  to  be 
feared. 

The  threatened  insurrection  had  been  proclaimed 
trumpet-tongued  through  the  state,  and  guards  every- 
where appointed  to  watch  over  the  public  safety.  A 
minute  description  of  his  person  was  published  in  all 
the  papers,  so  that  none  might  unwittingly  receive  the 
traitor  as  a  guest.  Though  Moreland  was  convinced 
that  he  was  an  impostor,  he  addressed  letters  to  the 
Conference  to  which  he  professed  to  belong,  making 
inquiries  respecting  his  standing  as  a  minister.  The 
answer  denied  any  knowledge  of  a  person  by  the  name 
of  Brainard.  There  was  no  minister  belonging  to  their 
Conference  or  denomination  of  that  name.  They  did 
not  hesitate  to  pronounce  him  a  vile  impostor. 

Mr.  Hastings  also  affirmed,  in  his  letters,  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  such  an  individual,  relieving  his 
daughter's  mind  of  an  unspeakable  weight.  He  could 
not  account  for  his  familiarity  with  the  names  of  his 

628 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  529 

household,  but  by  supposing  he  had  passed  through  the 
village,  and  made  himself  acquainted,  by  report,  with 
its  principal  inhabitants,  —  a  supposition  which  was 
founded  on  truth.  The  agitation  he  had  caused  in  the 
domestic  circle  and  in  the  public  mind  gradually  sub- 
sided, and  the  peace  he  had  disturbed  once  more  settled 
on  the  community.  The  negroes  were  pardoned,  as 
their  ringleader  was  white,  but  put  under  a  stricter 
discipline.  Having  so  shamefully  abused  their  religious 
privileges,  they  were  restricted  in  their  nightly  meet- 
ings, which  were  no  longer  allowed  to  be  kept  up 
beyond  the  ringing  of  the  nine  o'clock  bell.  The  mid- 
night hour,  which  was  the  scene  of  their  unhallowed 
orgies,  was  constantly  guarded,  and  no  night  passed 
without  the  scrutiny  of  the  vigilant  patrole  within  the 
walls  of  their  cabins. 

The  domestic  establishment  of  Moreland  resumed  its 
usual  peaceful  and  cheerful  aspect.  Jim  and  Crissy 
were  seen,  as  formerly,  unfurling  the  contents  of  the  big 
chest  to  the  morning  sunshine,  and  Kizzie's  countenance 
rejoiced  once  more  in  its  former  expression  of  conse- 
quential good-nature.  Eulalia  began  to  look  upon  the 
past  as  a  frightful  dream,  and  to  enjoy,  without  fear  of 
molestation,  the  comforts  of  her  Southern  home.  There 
was  one  circumstance  which  she  considered  a  blessing ; 
for  she  never  could  think  of  Yulcan,  the  blacksmith, 
without  horror  and  dread.  As  soon  as  he  had  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  the  blow,  and,  after  humbling  him- 


530  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

self  before  his  master,  been  released  from  imprisonment, 
he  absconded,  stealing,  in  imitation  of  his  illustrious 
predecessor,  one  of  his  master's  finest  horses,  and  baf- 
fling the  vigilance  of  pursuit. 

"I  am  glad  he  is  gone  !"  cried  Moreland,  when  the 
tidings  of  his  flight  reached  his  ears ;  "  for  I  never  could 
have  had  any  reliance  on  his  fidelity,  any  confidence  in 
his  truth.  He  was  an  excellent  workman,  and,  as  far  as 
labour  is  concerned,  a  great  pecuniary  loss  to  me,  but 
he  seemed  to  cast  a  dark  shadow  over  the  plantation, 
which  I  rejoice  to  have  rolled  away.  I  suspect  he  will 
soon  be  lionized  at  the  North,  as  one  of  those  poor, 
injured,  persecuted  beings,  escaped  from  Southern 
tyranny  to  throw  themselves  in  the  expanded  arms  of 
Northern  philanthropy.  Brainard  may  become  his 
keeper,  and  tell  to  a  gaping  multitude  the  story  of  his 
sufferings.  When  Vulcan  was  a  little  boy,  a  negro 
about  his  own  age,  who  was  playing  with  an  axe, 
chopped  off  two  of  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand,  and  he 
has  the  scar  of  a  terrible  burn  on  his  shoulder.  The 
mutilated  hand  may  be  shown  as  the  mark  by  which 
a  Southern  planter  identifies  his  slaves,  and  the  scar  as 
the  brand  of  his  cruelty.  Mark  my  words,  Eula,  and 
see  if  I  am  not  a  true  prophet." 

Eula    remembered    her   father's   giant   protege*   and 
blushed. 

Before  we  dismiss  this  era  in  our  history,  we  ought, 
in  justice  to  the  intrepid  wife  of  the  jailer,  to  mention 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN    BRIDE.  531 

the  manner  in  which  the  grateful  public  manifested  their 
appreciation  of  her  services.  When  told  by  a  friend 
that  she  was  to  be  presented  with  a  splendid  silver 
waiter,  on  which  the  prison  scene,  of  which  she  was  the 
heroine,  was  to  be  wrought  in  bas  relief,  she  remarked, 
with  her  usual  sound,  practical  good  sense — 

"I  don't  want  them  to  give  me  anything,  for  I've 
done  nothing  but  my  duty — I  would  despise  the  woman 
that  would  do  less — and  least  of  all,  a  silver  waiter.  It 
would  shame  my  homely  furniture ;  and  be  as  much  out 
of  place  as  if  I  should  stick  a  crown  on  my  head.  If 
they  would  send  my  boy  to  a  first-rate  school,  that  would 
be  something  to  be  grateful  for." 

In  consequence  of  this  hint,  the  silver  streams  of 
knowledge  were  poured  into  the  boy's  mind,  and  his 
education  continued  at  the  public  expense. 

Eula  hailed  the  opening  spring  with  anticipations  of 
delight.  She  was  looking  forward  to  a  visit  to  her 
Northern  home,  and  almost  every  thought  and  feeling 
had  reference  to  that  joyous  event.  She  watched  the 
unfolding  charms  of  her  beautiful  boy  with  a  jealous 
eye,  fearing  one  infantile  beauty  might  fleet,  before  the 
eyes  of  her  parents  could  gaze  upon  its  loveliness.  She 
talked  to  Effie  of  her  sweet  little  sister,  Dora,  as  her 
playmate  and  companion,  forgetting  that  three  passing 
years  had  added  considerable  dignity  to  the  five-year- 
old  child,  who  used  to  call  her  sister-mother.  She 
opened  her  casket  of  love-tokens,  and  spread  them  in 


532  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

fond  review  before  her,  thus  reviving,  in  all  their  early 
freshness,  the  associations  of  her  youth  : — the  faded 
flowers  she  had  pressed ;  even  the  humble  ironing-holder 
and  modest  comb-case,  which  had  been  carefully  pre- 
served ;  and,  more  precious  than  all,  poor  Nancy's 
heart-shaped  breast-pin,  containing  a  lock  of  her  long 
raven  hair. 

"I  fear  I  am  selfish,"  said  she  to  her  husband,  grate- 
ful for  his  animated  sympathy  in  all  her  anticipations. 
"  You  can  look  forward  with  no  such  joy  as  mine.  I 
fear  even  that  the  journey  may  be  painful  to  you,  frocr. 
recent  associations." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  he  replied.  "I  shall  revisit 
with  delight  the  beautiful  village  of  your  birth.  I  never 
can  forget  the  kindness  I  received,  as  a  stranger,  when 
I  was  lying  sick  and  apparently  dying  there.  There 
was  no  cold  Levite  passing  the  other  side :  all  were 
ministering  Samaritans,  whom  I  bless  in  remembrance. 
Your  excellent  pastor — how  I  long  to  clasp  his  venera- 
ble hand  once  more !  that  hand  which  I  last  saw  placed 
so  tenderly  on  the  head  of  my  kneeling  bride !  My 
friend,  the  bridge  architect,  I  respect  as  a  high-minded 
and  most  honourable  gentleman ;  and  good  Mrs.  Grimby 
will  receive  from  me  a  most  cordial  greeting.  You  need 
not  think  of  appropriating  to  yourself  all  the  joy,  leav- 
ing me  nothing  but  self-sacrifice  to  console  me.  But 
there  is  one  thing,  my  dear  Eula,  that  we  must  not 
forget.     You  know  we  are  going  quite  strong  in  number, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         533 

and  people  are  not  accustomed,  at  the  North,  to  visit  in 
caravans,  as  we  do.  My  sister,  "who  will  accompany  us, 
has  no  claims  on  the  hospitality  of  your  home.  Nay, 
let  me  finish  my  declamation.  Our  little  Efne  is  another 
interloper.  Then,  two  servants,  my  own  inseparable 
shadow,  and  the  nurse  to  the  honourable  heir  of  the 
house  of  Moreland,  will  make  in  addition  a  goodly 
company." 

"I  was  thinking  I  had  better  not  take  a  nurse,"  said 
Eula.     "Ildegerte's  experience  has  intimidated  me." 

"It  should  rather  give  you  courage.  There  is  no 
danger  of  any  of  them  being  induced  to  follow  Crissy's 
example.  Netty,  who  is  now  the  wife  of  Albert,  may 
go,  in  place  of  Kizzie,  whose  ample  person  is  something 
of  an  encumbrance  to  a  traveller.  I  do  not  intend  that 
you  shall  endure  the  fatigue  of  a  mother's  cares  unas- 
sisted, or  that  your  parents  shall  be  burdened  with  the 
expense  of  our  family  during  our  long  summer  visit. 
The  fatted  calf  and  golden  ring  of  welcome  will  be  ours ; 
let  this  trifle"  (putting  a  folded  paper  in  Eula's  hand) 
"  be  theirs.  Coming  from  you  as  a  filial  offering,  they 
will  not  shrink  from  receiving  it.  Do  not  blush,  my 
Eula.  Is  not  all  mine  thine,  and  all  yours  theirs,  if 
occasion  requires  the  appropriation  ?  Had  I  millions  to 
pour  into  their  coffers,  I  never  could  repay  them  the 
countless  debt  I  owe." 

"Flatterer!"  exclaimed  Eula,  smiling  through  glis- 
tening tears.     "  Is  not  mine  the  debt,  and  shall  not  my 


534  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

life  repay  it?  How  kindly,  how  generously  and  const 
derately  do  you  relieve  me  of  every  anxiety !  I  well 
know  that  my  father's  means  are  limited ;  and  the  fear 
of  drawing  too  largely  on  his  resources  has  been  the 
only  drawback  to  my  joyous  anticipations.  How  can  I 
do  justice  to  my  grateful  heart?" 

"Hush,  my  wife;  never,  never  speak  of  gratitude  to 
me.  If  I  could  be  angry  with  you,  it  would  make  me 
so." 

Kizzie  would  have  been  greatly  mortified  at  being 
superseded  by  the  young  and  airy  Netty,  had  not  Eula 
told  her  most  truly  that  she  could  not  leave  the  care  of 
the  household  in  any  other  hands  than  hers.  Dicey  was 
too  aged  to  take  the  superintendence ;  Crissy  too  deli- 
cate in  health,  and  Judy  entirely  too  ignorant.  They 
had  lately  received  a  valuable  addition  to  the  household 
establishment.  Moreland,  in  accordance  with  the  dying 
wishes  of  Davy,  had  sent  for  his  wife  and  daughters,  by 
a  gentleman  who  was  then  travelling  to  the  North. 
They  had  arrived,  and  were  now  members  of  his  family. 
He  had  offered  to  settle  them  in  a  dwelling  of  their  own, 
where  they  could  be  entirely  independent,  but  they 
pleaded  so  earnestly  to  remain  with  him,  that  he  could 
not  refuse.  This  was  a  perplexing  circumstance  to  him  ; 
for,  notwithstanding  the  husband's  and  father's  legacy, 
he  looked  upon  them  as  free,  and  resolved  never  to  be 
personally  benefited  by  their  labours,  or  to  appropriate 
to  himself  the  property  bequeathed  to  him.     He  could 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         585 

make  no  distinction  in  his  treatment  of  them,  however, 
and  they  seemed  to  desire  none.  Davy  was  now  dead. 
His  last  injunction  to  them  was,  to  place  themselves 
under  the  protection  of  Master  Moreland. 

This  is  a  remarkable  fact,  and,  if  placed  in  the  scales 
of  justice,  might  outweigh  a  thousand  exaggerated  state- 
ments of  oppression  and  cruelty.  But  prejudice  is 
stronger  than  iron,  more  heavy  than  lead,  more  sound- 
ing than  brass, — opposed  to  its  weight,  the  deeds  of  an 
angel  would  be  as  down  in  the  balance ;  the  ordination  a 
of  Heaven  but  as  dust.  Its  trumpet-cry  to  the  sons  of 
men  is,  "  Tekel,  Tekel !  thou  art  weighed  in  the  balance 
and  found  wanting  !"  Is  there  no  invisible  handwriting 
on  the  walls  of  its  conscience  ?  Is  there  not  a  greater 
than  Daniel  to  interpret  the  mystic  characters  ? 

At  length  the  time  appointed  for  the  departure  of  the 
travellers  arrived,  and  with  it  all  the  customary  bustle 
and  preparation.  We  have  intimated  before,  that  our 
good  friend  Kizzie  was  a  very  bustling  body,  and  fond 
of  creating  a  breeze  wherever  she  moved.  Now,  when 
she  was  about  to  be  left,  with  a  charge  scarcely  inferior, 
in  her  estimation,  to  the  seven  churches  of  Asia,  it  is 
not  strange  that  she  should  make  her  responsibilities 
known. 

"  Yes  !  mistress,"  said  she, — enumerating  a  few  of 
her  duties  to  Eula,  with  emphatic  gesticulations, — "  1 
shall  have  a  heap  of  things  to  see  to ;  but  you'll  find 
I've  taken  an  obligation  of  the  whole.     There'll  be  the 


530  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

pickles  to  make,  the  vegetables  to  be  gathered,  the 
peaches  to  dry,  and  the  preserves,  and  jellies,  and 
catchups  to  be  put  up ;  the  watermillion  rinds  to  be 
cut  into  citron ;  Master's  winter  clothes  to  be  aired,  so 
that  the  moths  can't  get  in  'em,  and  your  winter  ones 
too,  mistress;  the  linen  aired,  the  carpets  taken  up,  and 
the  picter  frames  converted  with  muslin,  to  keep  the  fly- 
specs  off.  The  curtains  must  be  taken  down,  too,  for 
they  needn't  be  wasting  themselves  on  nobody  but 
niggers  !" 

"  You  will  really  have  a  hard  time,  Kizzie,"  said 
Eula,  compassionately,  while  Moreland  laughed  at  Kiz- 
zie's  tremendous  vocabulary. 

"You  had  better  let  Jim  and  Crissy  do  the  airing 
part,"  said  he;  "they  understand  it  by  this  time." 

"  I  tell  you,  mistress,"  said  Kizzie, — after  honouring 
her  master's  remark  with  a  respectful  laugh, — "  the 
hardest  part  of  all  is  to  part  with  little  master.  I  love 
little  missy,  but  your  baby  has  got  the  nighest  place  in 
mj  heart.  It  goes  mighty  hard,  mistress,  to  gin  him 
up.  If  anything  should  happen,  and  you  never  bring 
him  back  no  more  ! — " 

"Don't,  Kizzie  !— don't !" 

"  I  can't  help  it,  mistress  !"  cried  she,  beginning  to 
sob,  while  she  hugged  the  beautiful  boy  in  her  arms,  and 
pressed  her  cheek  on  its  silky  hair;  "things  is  so  un- 
sartin  in  this  world,  and  children's  lives  are  nothing  but 
spiders'  webs,   any  way !      Lord    Almighty  bless   you, 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  537 

honey  sweet  baby !  and  keep  you  a  burning  and  a 
shining  when  Kizzie's  candle  done  need  no  more  snuff- 
mg! 

Eula  could  not  help  being  affected  by  the  grief  of  the 
demonstrative  Kizzie ;  and  the  young  Russell  seemed  to 
appreciate,  in  its  fullest  sense,  the  affection  of  his  old 
nurse.  He  clung  to  her  neck,  refusing  to  unlock  his 
loving  hands,  till  Moreland,  with  gentle  firmness,  with- 
drew him  from  her  arms,  and  gave  him  in  charge  to  the 
waiting  Netty. 

"You  must  not  forget  me,  either,  mammy!"  said 
Effie,  blowing  kisses  to  her  from  the  carriage,  where  she 
had  enthroned  herself. 

"Bless your  little  heart,  no  !"  cried  the  tender-hearted 
nurse,  sobbing  afresh. 

Ildegerte  was  very  sad,  for  she  remembered  her  last 
fruitless  journey,  and  that  she  was  lonely  now ;  but  the 
bright  and  beautiful  morning,  the  air  fragrant  with  the 
breath  of  opening  roses,  and  the  exhilaration  of  motion, 
soon  produced  a  reaction  in  the  spirits  of  the  travellers, 
and  Ildegerte's  sadness  became  illuminated  by  the  cheer- 
fulness of  her  companions. 

While  the  travellers  are  pursuing  their  way  rejoicing, 
we  will  turn  to  the  beautiful  New  England  village,  to 
which  the  reader  was  introduced  in  the  early  pages  of 
this  history. 

How  fresh  and  green  and  quiet  it  looks  !  Fresh  as 
when  baptized  with  the  morning  dew  of  creation,  it  first 


538  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

reflected  its  Maker's  smile ;  green  as  when  emerging 
from  the  waters  of  the  deluge,  the  dove  of  the  ark 
hovered  over  its  bosom.  It  was  fair  and  beautiful  three 
years  ago :  it  is  fair  and  beautiful  now.  Scarcely  one 
new  building  has  been  erected,  one  change  made  to 
remind  one  of  the  insensible  lapse  of  time.  Mr. 
Grimby's  sign,  having  an  eagle  on  one  side,  and  Wash- 
ington, prim  and  dim,  on  the  other,  swings  majestically 
in  the  wind,  and  the  beautiful  bridge  constructed  by  Mr. 
Brooks,  spans  with  its  graceful  arch  the  river's  azure 
volume.  There  stands  the  church,  with  its  glittering 
vane,  and  leaden  dome,  and  snowy  pillars,  "  looking 
tranquillity;"  yonder  is  the  parsonage,  embosomed  in 
its  consecrated  shades ;  and  here  is  the  well-known  man- 
sion, rising  mid  its  grove  of  sycamore  and  mountain 
ash.  Methinks  it  looks  younger  and  fairer  than  it  did 
three  years  ago, — and  well  it  may,  for  it  has  just  put  on 
a  new  robe  of  paint,  and  the  old  green  blinds  have  been 
rejuvenated  also.  Let  us  peep  in  the  inside,  and  see  if 
it  wears  the  same  familiar  aspect.  The  painter's  brush 
has  been  there  likewise, — the  ceiling  is  dazzling  in  its 
fresh,  unsoiled  whitewash,  and  the  walls  papered  and 
bordered  anew.  Everything  is  as  fair  and  smiling  as  a 
bride  adorned  for  her  husband. 

Ah !  dear  must  be  the  daughter  and  sister  for  whose 
welcome  even  inanimate  objects  thus  renew  and  beautify 
themselves  ! 

Eulalia's  expected  return  was  indeed  an  era  in  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        539 

quiet,  monotonous  life  of  our  villagers.  There  was  not 
a  house  whose  inmates  were  not  excited,  in  some  degree, 
by  the  anticipation.  Even  strangers,  and  there  were  a 
few,  who  had  sought  the  retirement  of  the  valley,  parti- 
cipated, through  sympathy,  with  the  all-pervading  feel- 
ing. If  such  was  the  general  interest,  what  must  have 
been  the  emotions  of  the  household  where,  as  a  young 
divinity,  she  was  enshrined  and  worshipped?  Yet, 
while  every  chord  of  their  hearts  was  vibrating  with 
hope  and  quivering  with  love,  there  were  one  or  two 
little  discordant  notes  mingling  with  this  music  of  nature. 
Moreland,  the  planter,  whose  princely  abode  and  broad 
possessions  Eulalia  had  so  often  described,  was  more 
awe-inspiring  than  the  stranger  who  had  wooed  her  for 
his  bride.  Then,  he  merely  visited  them,  now  he  must- 
be  domesticated;  and  the  contrast  between  his  own 
luxurious  style  of  living,  and  their  plain  and  necessa- 
rily economical  habits,  would  be  inevitably  more  con- 
spicuous. Then  his  sister  —  they  shrunk  from  the 
thought  of  her  being  admitted  into  their  simple,  una- 
dorned circle,  accustomed  as  she  had  been  to  all  the 
appliances  of  wealth.  The  house  was  small,  the  rooms 
low  and  old-fashioned,  the  furniture,  most  of  it,  handed 
down  from  other  generations.  Mrs.  Hastings,  with  all 
her  genuine  piety  and  sound  good  sense,  could  not  help 
occasionally  being  troubled  and  careful  about  these 
things.  It  was  one  of  the  weaknesses  to  which  poor 
human  nature  is  liable,  and,  though  one  of  the  most 


54-0  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

excellent  of  her  sex,  she  was  still  a  woman,  and  had  all 
a  true  woman's  pride  of  appearance  and  self-respect. 

Betsy  was  in  a  perfect  fever  of  expectation  and  pre- 
paration. She  scarcely  slept  at  night,  thinking  of  the 
morrow's  work.  The  ghost  that  haunted  her  came  in 
the  shape  of  the  negro  nurse.  Albert  she  knew,  and 
did  not  care  for  him ;  but  Netty  must  be  proud  and 
"  sarcy,"  and  would  turn  up  her  nose  at  everything  she 
saw  and  heard.  She  would  give  all  the  world  if  Miss 
Eula  had  left  her  at  home.  She  was  willing  to  work 
her  fingers  to  the  bone  herself — she  did  not  mind  that ; 
but  she  could  not  bear  to  be  interfered  with,  as  she  knew 
she  should  be.  Yet  such  is  the  inconsistency  of  human 
nature,  that  while  Betsy  gave  utterance  to  these  misgiv- 
ings, she  liked  to  boast  of  the  style  in  which  Miss  Eula 
was  coming,  and  would  have  been  quite  ashamed  to  have 
had  any  one  suppose  that  she  had  to  attend  to  her  baby 
herself.  The  way  she  scrubbed  and  cleaned  and  cooked 
was  almost  miraculous.  The  genius  of  Aladdin's  lamp 
hardly  wrought  more  wonders  than  Betsy  out  of  her 
limited  materials. 

One  day,  after  receiving  a  letter  from  the  South, 
Mrs.  Hastings  entered  the  kitchen  with  a  glowing  coun- 
tenance. 

"Betsy!"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  look  out  for  a 
young  girl,  who  can  help  you  while  Eula  is  here — a 
nice,  respectable  young  person,  who  can  wait  upon  tablo 
and  put  the  rooms  in  order." 


THE  PLANTER  S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         5il 

Betsy  opened  her  eyes  wide,  and  dropped  the  shovel 
in  her  astonishment. 

"That  would  be  grand,"  she  answered;  "that's  what 
I've  been  wanting  all  along,  but  I  was  afraid  to  say  it, 
'cause  you  allers  said  you  couldn't  afford  any  extras." 

"We  cannot  do  too  much  in  honour  of  Mr.  Moreland," 
said  Mrs.  Hastings.  The  letter  of  Eulalia  was  in  her  bo- 
som, containing  the  munificent  gift  her  husband  had 
insisted  upon  her  offering  to  her  mother,  and  it  was  ac- 
companied by  words  so  sweet  and  affectionate,  the  most 
fastidious  delicacy  could  not  shrink  from  its  reception. 
AH  that  her  warm  and  liberal  heart  had  yearned  to  do, 
coaM  now  be  done  without  impoverishing  her  husband, 
who  "vas  burdened  with  many  cares. 

"To-morrow  they  will  be  here,"  cried  Reuben,  now  a 

^radu  ite  of College,  with  the  highest  honours  of 

tho  i  istitution  adorning  his  reputation,  and  who  had 
been  listinguished  among  his  classmates  as  the  eloquent 
chanvpion  of  Southern  rights. 

"To-morrow  and  one  day  more,  you  mean,"  exclaimed 
Don,  in  whose  intelligent  eyes  and  darkened  hair  the 
shaie  of  three  passing  years  softly  rested.  "How  long 
the  days  are  now !  It  seems  as  if  they  wo  Jd  never, 
nev:n-  end !" 

The  morrow  came  and  went ;  the  one  day  more  was 

nearly  closed,  and  Dora,  in  her  best  white  frock  and 

curls  smooth  as  satin,  stood  on  the  gate,  and,  shading 

her  eyes  with  her  hand,  watched  the  road  through  the 

169 


542  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

vista  of  lofty  poplars,  this  side  of  the  tavern.  Reuben's 
glowing  locks  were  seen  leaning  against  the  sycamore 
tree,  which  commanded  the  most  distant  view.  Mrs. 
Hastings,  too  agitated  to  leave  the  house,  gazed  through 
the  windows,  which  often  grew  dim  as  she  gazed.  Mr. 
Hastings's  portly  figure  stalked  up  and  down  the  yard, 
in  its  suit  of  Sunday  broadcloth ;  and  Betsy  flourished 
about  the  kitchen  in  her  finest  calico  frock,  pinned  up 
to  be  sure,  and  guarded  by  a  blue-checked  apron.  Never 
were  the  setting-sun  rays  so  anxiously  watched.  Every 
object  seen  through  the  poplar  vista  was  a  coming  car- 
riage. Sometimes  it  proved  a  black  cow,  sometimes  a 
gentleman  in  black  with  a  white  vest,  who  was  mistaken 
for  a  white-faced  horse.  The  buzzing  of  a  humble-bee 
was  converted  into  the  humming  of  distant  wheels,  and 
the  haziness  of  twilight  for  the  dust  that  heralded  the 
approaching  carriage.  For  hours,  the  supper  stood  un- 
touched on  the  table,  waiting  for  the  expected  guests, 
but  they  came  not.  Dora,  who  had  soiled  her  white 
dress  rubbing  against  the  gate,  and  strained  her  eyes 
till  they  ached,  ana  their  clear  white  was  streaked  with 
little  blood-shot  veins,  went  supperless  and  weeping  to 
bed.  Be^y  folded  up  her  nice  calico  frock,  grieved 
that  she  had  tumbled  it  for  nothing,  and  sighing  over 
the  flannel  cakes  so  light  and  melting,  and  the  muffins, 
white  and  porous  as  the  froth  of  albumen. 

"What  was  the  reason  folks  never  come  when  folks 
were  ready  and  looking  for  them  ?     'Twas  such  a  putty 


THE   PLANTER  S    NORTHERN   BRIDE.  04'3 

time  to  come  about  sundown,  and  have  a  whole  night  to 
rest  in !     One  does  hate  to  be  cotched  in  their  duds !" 

Poor  Betsy  !  people  are  so  perverse  they  never  will 
come  at  the  exact  moment, — they  will  take  their  own 
time,  and  it  is  generally  the  very  worst  in  the  world. 

The  morning  was  veiled  in  mist,  so  dense  that  not  one 
solitary  sunbeam  could  penetrate  it.  As  Betsy  said, 
"one  could  hardly  see  a  hand  before  them."  The  dis- 
appointment of  the  preceding  evening  had  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  family ;  and  Dora  wondered  if  it  would  be 
possible  to  live  through  another  long  day  of  expectation, 
— and  foggy  days  were  so  dreary,  they  were  longer  than 
any  other.  But  a  short  time  before  noon,  the  fog  began 
slowly  to  lift  up,  like  the  curtain  of  a  theatre,  revealing 
the  charming  scenery  concealed  by  its  folds.  It  rose, 
becoming  more  and  more  thin,  and  brightening  as  it 
rose,  till  it  assumed  the  appearance  of  transparent, 
silvery  gauze,  through  which  the  green  foliage  was  seen 
waving  and  sparkling,  and  the  spring  flowers  softly 
glowing.  It  rested,  a  gossamer  canopy,  on  the  tops  of 
the  sycamores,  then,  melting  into  soft,  bluish  wreaths, 
floated  up  into  the  depths  of  ether.  Just  as  the  silver 
veil  was  slowlv  lifting;,  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  was 
heard,  right  at  the  very  gate,  before  any  one  was  aware 
of  their  coming.  Two  carriages  were  there,  and  the 
steps  of  both  let  down  before  the  door  flew  open,  and 
the  welcome  home  commenced.  Oh !  was  not  thau 
glorious  sunburst,  penetrating  the  vaporous,  gauze-like 


544  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

folds,  an  emblem  of  the  joy  of  that  meeting  hour, — 
a  joy  shining  through  tears !  That  lovely  youthful 
matron,  with  such  a  pale  yet  radiant  face,  who  throws 
herself  trembling  in  her  mother's  arms, — ah !  that  is 
sweet  Eula  Hastings,  the  flower  of  her  native  village  ! 
That  beautiful  boy,  nestling,  dove-like,  in  its  father's 
bosom,  and  looking  wonderingly  at  the  strange  faces 
that  surround  it, —  that  cherub  boy  is  hers.  For  one 
moment,  even  Moreland  was  forgotten,  who  turned  with 
glistening  eyes  to  his  sister,  that  seemed  to  say, 

"You  see,  New  England  hearts  are  warm  and  tender 
as  our  own." 

The  Southern  stranger  was  not  chilled  by  her  recep- 
tion, though  her  own  demonstrative  nature  exceeded  its 
warmth.  Her  heart  involuntarily  sprang  forward  to 
meet  Mrs.  Hastings,  whom  she  loved  already,  as  the 
mother  of  Eulalia.  When  she  came  forward  to  greet 
her,  with  that  air  of  subdued  kindness  which  shows 
there  is  a  well-spring  flowing  within,  and  extended  her 
hand  to  the  young  creature  clad  in  the  sable  weeds  of 
widowhood,  Ildegerte  threw  her  arms  round  her  neck, 
and  exclaimed, 

"Let  me  be  your  daughter,  too !" 

The  warm  embrace  that  followed  this  petition  was  a 
mute  but  expressive  answer.  Was  this  the  lady  whom 
her  imagination  had  invested  with  such  stately  grace 
and  aristocracy,  whose  coming  she  had  secretly  dreaded, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         545 

this  fair,  pensive,  loving  being,  who  claimed  so  sweetly 
her  maternal  love  ? 

The  little  black-eyed  fairy,  whose  hand  is  already 
closely  locked  in  Dora's,  every  one  knows  it  is  Efiie, 
"the  child  of  the  sun,"  as  Eula  had  often  called  her; 
Dora  leads  her  into  the  house  with  such  a  protecting, 
motherly  air,  so  confidential  yet  so  patronizing,  it  is  im- 
possible to  describe  it.  Dora  has  become  such  a  pre- 
cocious little  woman,  since  Eula  left  her  home,  has  so 
many  responsibilities  resting  upon  her,  as  the  only 
unmarried  daughter, — has  so  many  of  Eula's  proteges 
to  take  care  of,  and  her  own  reputation  to  sustain  as 
the  brightest  scholar  in  school,  that  there  is  some 
clanger  of  her  losing  some  of  the  graces  of  childhood, 
without  receiving  a  full  equivalent.  The  wild  and 
pranksome  Effie  will  soon  bring  her  back  to  the  right 
level. 

The  "neat-handed  Phillis,"  who  had  been  engaged 
as  Betsy's  assistant,  insisted  upon  relieving  Netty  of 
the  carpet-bags  and  bundles  which  she  was  bearing,  so 
that,  fortunately,  Netty's  first  impression  of  the  village 
servants  was,  that  they  were  very  polite  and  well-bred; 
and  Albert,  who  was  never  outdone  in  politeness,  in- 
sisted upon  taking  them  from  the  "neat-handed  Phillis," 
who,  on  her  part,  thought  the  Southern  slaves  the  best 
bred  people  in  the  world.  But  where  was  Betsy  her- 
self, that  she  had  not  appeared  to  welcome  one  whom 
she  so  dearly  loved  ?     She  had  been  flying  halfway  up 


51Q  tiie  planter's  northern  bride. 

stairs,  and  halfway  down  stairs,  in  a  state  bordering  on 
distraction, — resolving  one  moment  she  would  change  her 
domestic  morning  dress,  the  next,  thinking  it  would  take 
too  long, — almost  crying  for  joy  at  the  thought  of  seeing 
Miss  Eula's  beautiful  face  once  more,  yet  recoiling  in 
imagination  from  the  "sarcy"  black  negro,  who  accom- 
panied her. 

Eulalia's  affectionate  heart  waited  not  for  Betsy's 
vacillating  and  bewildered  movements.  Catching  her 
baby  in  her  arms,  she  sought  the  kitchen  with  eager 
steps,  and  found  Betsy  hovering,  like  Mahomet's  coffin, 
between  two  counter  influences. 

"  Why  dear,  good,  faithful  Betsy,  how  glad  I  am  to 
see  you !"  cried  she,  her  voice  tremulous  from  excite- 
ment, and  pressing  Betsy's  callous  hand  in  her  soft  and 
rosy  palm.  "  I  have  brought  my  boy  to  show  you — my 
fair  and  beautiful  Southern  blossom." 

Betsy  gazed  upon  the  mother  and  gazed  upon  the 
child  with  brimming  eyes,  that  soon  overflowed  in  a 
genuine  heart- shower. 

"Oh!  you  are  puttier  than  ever,  Miss  Euly !"  said 
she,  laughing  and  crying  in  the  same  breath,  "and  just 
as  good — better  you  couldn't  be.  And  is  this  your  own 
sweet  precious  baby — the  beautifulest  darling  that  ever 
my  eyes  sot  upon  !" 

There  was  something  in  Betsy's  homely,  but  honest, 
sterling  features  that  attracted  Master  Russell's  discri- 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        547 

urinating  eyes,  and,  with  a  most  engaging  smile,  he  ex- 
tended his  snowy  arms  towards  her. 

"Bless  his  little  heart  and  soul!  I'm  ashamed  to 
touch  him,  that  I  am — all  in  my  dirty  morning  working 
clothes.  I  dressed  in  my  best  last  night  and  you  didn't 
come,  and  now  ain't  I  a  sight  to  see?" 

"You  look  very  well  indeed,  Betsy,  and  your  kitchen, 
as  usual,  as  neat  as  wax.  How  is  your  poor  lame  bro- 
ther, Betsy?" 

"  He  is  better  off,  a  great  deal,  Miss  Euly,  for  he's 
gone  to  Him  that  makes  the  lame  to  walk  like  the  bound- 
ing roe.  For  a  long  time  it  seemed  as  if  I'd  nothing  to 
live  or  work  for ;  but  them  that  has  a  plenty  to  do  hasn't 
time  to  spend  a  grieving,  and  it's  a  mercy  in  the  end." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  so  important  a  personage 
as  Eulalia  would  be  suffered  to  remain  alone  in  the 
kitchen,  for  the  doorway  was  soon  filled  with  those  that 
followed  her  movements  and  hung  upon  her  accents,  as 
if  her  lips  dropped  manna.  Moreland  greeted  Betsy 
with  genuine  cordiality,  and  Count  D'Orsay  himself 
could  not  have  displayed  more  grace  than  Albert,  in 
introducing  his  young  and  coquettish-looking  bride  to 
the  sturdy,  republican  Yankee  servant.  Netty  though 
herself  vastly  superior  to  Betsy,  but  she  had  been  s< 
well  drilled  by  Albert  in  the  proprieties  of  a  Northern 
kitchen  that  she  condescended  to  be  very  courteous  and 
genteel.  Indeed  she  stood  too  much  in  awe  of  her  mas- 
ter to  do  anything  which  she  knew  would  displease  him. 


548  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Betsy  saw  the  vision  of  the  insolent  black  woman  fade 
away,  and  a  trim,  smiling,  smooth-faced  mulatto  beaming 
in  its  place.  Erom  that  moment  she  extended  the  hos- 
pitalities of  the  kitchen  with  excellent  good-will.  Betsy 
was  an  uncommon  instance  of  unchanging  devotion  to 
one  family,  in  the  midst  of  general  fluctuation.  It  is 
not  often  that  you  find,  among  Northern  servants,  one 
who  remains,  as  she  had  done,  a  fixture  in  the  household, 
identified  with  the  best  interests  of  the  family,  and  par- 
ticipating heartily  in  all  its  joys  and  sorrows.  But  in  a 
small  inland  town,  where  the  tide  of  emigration  does  not 
come  flowing  in,  there  is  less  of  the  spirit  of  change  than 
in  the  large  cities.  Those  who  prefer  labouring  in  a 
family  to  toiling  in  the  crowded  factories,  are  generally 
of  steady,  domestic  habits,  and,  having  made  up  their 
minds  to  work  as  a  necessity,  see  no  advantage  in  roll- 
ing, like  the  stone  that  gathers  no  moss,  from  door  to 
door. 

Had  Mr.  Hastings  become  reconciled  to  his  Southern 
son-in-law  ?  One  would  suppose  so,  from  the  bright 
sparkling  of  his  keen  black  eyes,  the  constant  friction 
of  his  hands,  and  the  "  very  happy  to  see  you  again," 
that  repeatedly  gladdened  his  lips.  Not  that  he  had 
voluntarily  yielded  one  iota  of  his  principles — he  still 
persisted  that  they  were  as  firm  as  Mount  Atlas ;  but  he 
was  more  guarded  in  the  expression  of  his  feelings,  and 
the  letters  of  his  daughter  had  insensibly  wrought  a 
change  in  them  greater  than  he  himself  was  aware  of. 


THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN    BRIDE.  5*9 

He  could  not  but  respect  and  adinire  the  character  of 
Moreland,  and  rejoice  in  the  happiness  of  Eulalia.  He 
was  proud,  too,  of  the  wealth  of  her  husband,  and  the 
distinction  his  alliance  had  given  the  family. 

The  being,  beloved  as  Eulalia  was,  returning  after  the 
absence,  even  of  a  few  years,  to  the  bosom  of  her  family 
and  friends,  has  an  earnest  of  the  bliss  of  reunion  in  the 
spirit-world.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  testimonies 
of  joy  and  affection  that  greeted  her  wherever  she 
moved.  The  venerable  Dr.  Ellery,  her  beloved  pastor, 
shed  tears  of  joy  when  he  embraced  her ;  and  when, 
with  all  a  mother's  pride  and  tenderness,  she  placed  her 
blooming  boy  in  his  arms,  he  raised  it  towards  heaven, 
and  blessed  it  with  the  inspiration  of  a  prophet  and  the 
solemnity  of  a  saint.  Then  gently  drawing  it  to  his 
bosom,  he  said, 

"  I  remember  you,  my  daughter,  an  innocent,  smiling 
babe,  thus  nestling  in  my  paternal  arms.  I  love  to  look 
back  to  that  period,  seeing  before  me  the  fulfilment  of 
my  fondest  prayers.  I  love  to  look  forward  to  the 
future  destiny  of  this  child.  The  blood  of  the  North 
and  the  South  is  blended  in  its  veins,  and  may  he  be  a 
representative  of  the  reunion  of  these  now  too  divided 
parties  !" 

"Amen!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hastings.  The  spirit  cer- 
tainly moved  him  to  utter  it,  for  he  seemed  as  much 
electrified  by  its  sound  as  any  of  his  auditors.  The 
truth  was,  that  little  child,  with  its  soft,  downy  touch, 


550  the  planter's  northern  eriee. 

had  done  more  to  make  Mount  Atlas  shake,  than  the 
giant  efforts  of  reason,  or  the  strong  though  invisible 
pressure  of  conscience. 

On  the  following  Sunday,  Eulalia,  dressed  as  she  was 
accustomed  to  do  as  a  village  maiden,  in  simple,  una- 
dorned white,  took  her  place  behind  the  green  curtain 
with  the  choral  throng.  With  but  few  exceptions  the 
same  choristers  were  there,  composing  the  singing  band, 
the  same  "  Harmonicas  Sacras"  lay  open,  at  the  notes  of 
the  same  old,  majestic  anthems,  which  were  wont  to 
usher  in  the  morning  worship  of  the  temple.  The  tem- 
ple itself  was  unchanged.  Pure  from  the  breath  of 
sacrilege,  its  walls  presented  the  same  spotless  surface, 
and  the  same  spotless  hands  ministered  at  the  altar. 
When  the  choir  rose,  and,  with  a  simultaneous  burst  of 
melody,  chanted  the  sublime  hymn  commencing  thus — 

"  Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 
Ye  nations  bow  with  sacred  joy ;" 

Eulalia  met  the  uplifted  eyes  of  her  husband,  and  they 
both  remembered  the  first  time  he  had  heard  her  voice 
sustaining  the  magnificent  chorus.  The  memories  of 
three  years  of  wedded  happiness,  such  as  seldom  is  given 
to  mortals  to  enjoy,  were  gathered  in  that  single  glance. 
Her  heart  swelled  with  adoring  gratitude,  and  gave 
Utterance  to  its  emotions  in  strains  of  angelic  sweetness 
and  power.  There  were  some,  whose  aged  ears  had 
never  hoped  to  hear  that  voice  again,  save  in  the  celes- 
tial orchestra,  were  moved  to  tear3  as  they  listened,  and 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         551 

blessed  the  lips  that  still,  pure  from  worldly  guile,  loved 
to  sing  the  holy  songs  of  Zion. 

Nature  itself  harmonized  with  the  spirit  of  the  scene, 
and  breathed  forth  its  gentlest,  balmiest  influences. 
The  air,  soft  and  bland  as  the  gales  of  the  South,  stole 
in  through  the  half-opened  blinds,  reverently  parting 
the  white  locks  of  age,  and  fluttering  the  ringlets  of 
childhood.  Effie's  gipsy  curls  and  Dora's  light-brown 
tresses,  as  they  sat  side  by  side,  unbonneted,  as  children 
usually  are  during  the  heat  of  summer,  were  twined 
together  by  the  loving  gale.  Beautiful  representatives 
of  the  North  and  the  South,  they  sat,  with  hand  linked 
with  hand  and  heart  meeting  heart !  Oh !  that  they 
might  be  typical  of  that  harmony  which  ought  to  exist 
between  two  regions  which  God  has  so  greatly  glorified, 
so  abundantly  blessed ! 

Moreland  was  exceedingly  gratified  by  the  cordial 
manner  in  which  the  citizens  expressed  their  congratu- 
lations for  his  return,  greeting  him  at  the  door  of  the 
church,  when  the  services  of  the  morning  were  over 
Mr.  Grimby's  swarthy  features  wore  quite  a  benignant 
glow. 

"What  a  man  soweth,  that  doth  he  also  reap." 

Moreland's  charities,  though  unostentatiously  be- 
stowed by  the  gentle  hands  of  his  wife,  had  glided 
through  the  byways  of  the  village,  quietly  as  the  stream 
that  fertilized  its  soil,  imparting,  like  its  clear  and 
shaded  waters,  greenness  and  bloom.     The  blessing  of 


552  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

the    poor  rested  upon  him,  neutralizing   the   curse   of 
fanaticism, — the  anathema  of  prejudice. 

Where  was  the  aged  mother  of  Nancy  ?  This  was  a 
question  Moreland  and  Eulalia  both  asked.  She  dwelt 
i  1  the  almshouse,  the  abode  she  had  so  long  dreaded  to 
inhabit.  After  Nancy's  death,  it  was  impossible  for  her 
to  remain  alone,  in  her  age  and  infirmity.  Though  all 
were  kind  to  the  lonely  octogenarian,  none  could  assume 
the  heavy  burden  of  her  support.  Few  had  a  room  to 
spare  or  time  to  devote  to  one  requiring  so  much  watch- 
fulness in  life's  second  childhood, — that  sad,  sad  era, 
marked  by  the  helplessness  of  infancy,  without  its  inno- 
cence ;  the  infirmity  of  age,  without  its  majesty.  So 
she  was  borne  to  the  almshouse,  where  many  of  the 
poor,  unhappy,  scattered  members  of  the  great  human 
family  were  doomed  to  meet.  The  building  was  ample 
and  comfortable,  their  common  wants  were  supplied ; 
but  the  withered  and  rent  associations  of  home  were 
trailing  after  their  weary  steps,  and  hanging  in  mourn- 
ful tangles  round  their  broken  hearts.  Who,  while  they 
bless  the  benevolence  that  founded  these  institutions  of 
mercy,  does  not  pity  the  miserable  beings  who,  deprived 
of  all  other  shelter,  are  condemned  to  bear  the  cross  of 
humiliation,  and  suffer  the  most  melancholy  of  earthly 
privations  ?  We  would  ask  any  unprejudiced  person,  if 
old  Aunt  Dicey,  in  her  comfortable  cabin,  in  the  midst 
of  home  and  its  unbroken  associations,  was  not  happier 
than  Dame  Brown,  the  companion  of  the  drivelling  idiot, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         553 

the  imbecile,  the  crazed,  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  the 
blind? 

The  poor  old  creature  wept  like  an  infant,  when 
Moreland  and  Eulalia  sought  her  in  her  sad  retreat. 
They  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  their  own  hearts  were 
full.  How  strange  it  seemed,  that  she  should  be  suf- 
fered to  live,  the  survivor  of  all  earthly  ties  and  joys, 
with  the  clanking  of  life's  broken  chain  ringing  in  her 
ears ;  and  Nancy,  the  joy  and  comfort  of  her  age, 
blighted  and  cut  down  in  the  flower  of  her  youth  ! 

Never  had  Eulalia  felt  such  an  oppression  of  the 
heart,  as  in  quitting  that  melancholy  abode.  The  in- 
equality of  happiness  in  this  world  struck  her  with  a 
force  that  was  appalling.  Why  was  she  so  richly 
blessed,  and  others  so  barren  of  comfort  ?  Were  poverty 
and  suffering  the  black  clouds  prepared  as  the  back- 
ground for  the  exhibition  of  Christian  graces  ?  Must 
the  earth  for  ever  be  darkened  by  the  smoke  of  human 
suffering,  creation  for  ever  groan  beneath  the  burden 
of  sorrow  and  of  want?  Eulalia  gave  utterance  to 
these  interrogations,  on  her  homeward  path,  and  More- 
land  answered  thus, — 

"  I  have  pondered  long  and  deeply  over  these  things, 
and  have  come  to  the  conclusion,  that,  if  every  indivi- 
dual would  do  all  that  he  can  to  relieve  the  sorrows  and 
trials  of  those  within  his  reach,  whom  Heaven  has  placed 
under  his  immediate  influence,  the  sum  of  human  misery 
would  gradually  and  surely  diminish,  and  dwindle  into 


551  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

nothing.  But  man  places  himself  on  the  hill-top,  and, 
overlooking  the  valley  at  his  feet,  stretches  his  hands 
afar,  grasping  at  intangible  objects,  and  wasting  his 
energies  in  fruitless  and  impossible  efforts.  He  is  not 
obliged  to  lift  up  his  voice,  to  appease  the  groaning 
poor  at  his  side, — the  world  will  not  hear  the  soft  hush- 
ings  of  his  benevolence, — his  name  will  not  echo  to  the 
distant  hills.  Every  once  in  a  while,  he  mounts  a 
hobby,  whose  thundering  hoofs  trample  down  all  indi- 
vidual rights,  and  disturb  the  repose  of  nations.  Anti- 
slavery  is  the  monomania  of  the  present  day ;  and  a 
black  face,  provided  it  belongs  to  a  fugitive,  irrespective 
of  every  moral  claim,  a  passport  to  favour  and  distinc- 
tion." 

Moreland  started,  and  a  glow  of  pleasure  illumined 
his  serious  and  thoughtful  countenance.  Whom  should 
he  meet  near  the  threshold  of  Mr.  Hastings's  door  but 
his  Western  friend,  Dr.  Darley  ?  The  doctor  was  making 
a  Northern  tour,  the  present  summer,  and  his  route 
leading  him  through  this  beautiful  village,  he  learnt, 
with  joy,  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  meeting 
his  Southern  friends.  This  unexpected  addition  to  their 
happiness  was  duly  appreciated  by  all,  but  most  espe- 
cially by  the  grateful  Ildegerte,  whose  countenance  be- 
came literally  radiant  with  the  joy  of  welcome.  Mr. 
Hastings  was  "  very,  very  happy  to  see  Dr.  Darley,  and 
to  entertain  so  distinguished  a  guest."  He  was  proud 
of  the  honour — so  proud  and  so  happy  that  he  almost 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         555 

rubbed  the  skin  from  his  hands  by  incessant  friction. 
The  doctor,  who  was  an  enthusiastic  and  poetic  lover  of 
the  beauties  of  nature,  and  who  thought  he  had  found 
the  loveliest  resting  spot  in  creation,  consented  to  remain 

few  days,  and,  during  that  short  time,  he  had  an  op 
Xjortunity  of  exercising   that  commanding  influence  for 
the  public  good  which  he  exerted  wherever  he  went. 

A  placard  had  been  put  up  at  Mr.  Grimby's  tavern, 
and  in  the  most  conspicuous  public  places,  announcing 
that  Mr.  Howard,  a  distinguished  philanthropist,  would 
lecture  on  such  a  night  in  the  Lyceum  hall.  He  was 
to  be  accompanied  by  a  fugitive  slave,  who  would  relate 
some  of  the  most  startling  and  thrilling  incidents  of  the 
horrible  system  from  which  he  had  recently  escaped. 

Mr.  Hastings  was  placed  in  a  very  perplexing  dilem- 
ma. His  house  had  always  been  a  kind  of  abolition- 
tavern,  and  all  itinerant  lecturers  were  received  by  him 
with  all  the  honours  of  hospitality.  They  were  sure  to 
bring  him  letters  of  introduction,  and  he  was  sure  to 
introduce  them  to  the  public  with  a  glowing  smile  of 
patronage.  Supposing  this  stranger  came,  with  his 
sable  satellite,  expecting  admission  to  his  home,  how 
could  he  receive  him  under  the  same  roof  with  Moie 
land  ?  Yet,  if  he  refused,  how  recreant  to  the  princi 
pies  he  had  so  often  declared  himself  ready  to  die  to 
defend !  Dr.  Darley,  too,  whose  sentiments  on  the  sub- 
ject he  had  been  careful  to  ascertain,  and  whose  good 
opinion  he  was  most  anxious  to  secure,  would  consider 


55G  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

himself  insulted  as  well  as  Moreland,  by  his  countenance 
of  one,  the  avowed  champion  of  a  cause,  against  which 
he  had  thrown  the  weight  of  his  talents  and  the  influence 
of  his  reputation.  Poor  Mr.  Hastings  was  sadly  trou- 
bled and  perplexed.  The  large,  staring  black  letters 
on  the  placards  seemed  branded  on  his  mind,  and  by  a 
most  painful  introspection,  he  beheld  them  from  "morn 
till  noon,  from  noon  till  dewy  eve." 

"I  want  to  hear  this  orator,"  said  Moreland,  "and 
his  African  colleague.  If  he  has  the  eloquence  of  a 
Brainard,  he  may  make  every  green  leaf  of  the  valley 
thrill.  I  want  to  hear  Dr.  Darley,  too,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  question." 

"Not  when  Mr.  Moreland  is  present." 

"  Surely  you,  Dr.  Darley,  standing  as  you  do  on  the 
borders  of  the  West,  with  the  North  on  one  side  and  the 
South  on  the  other,  can  speak  with  a  far  better  grace 
than  one  whose  personal  interests  are  identified  with 
either." 

"It  will  be  as  the  occasion  prompts,"  replied  the 
doctor.  "I  do  not  believe  I  ever  stayed  three  days  in 
a  place  without  being  called  upon  to  make  a  public  ad- 
dress, by  the  imperiousness  of  circumstances." 

Moreland  had  related  to  him  the  history  of  Brainard, 
the  insurrection  he  had  plotted,  the  scene  at  the  grave 
of  Dilsy,  and  the  after  flight  of  Vulcan. 

"  Perhaps  this  is  the  self-same  man,  figuring  under  a 
new  name,"  said  Dr.  Darley. 


THE  TLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         557 

"I  have  been  thinking  so,"  replied  Moreland. 

"  If  so,  we  may  anticipate  some  great  scenes,"  said  the 
doctor,  the  merry  spark  in  his  eye  scintillating  with 
unusual  brilliancy. 

This  was  not  said  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Hastings, 
who  wandered  like  a  restless  ghost  the  whole  afternoon 
of  the  appointed  evening.  Every  knock  made  him  start 
and  change  colour :  but  to  his  unspeakable  relief  his  hos- 
pitality was  unclaimed — the  modern  Howard  had  not 
yet  made  his  appearance. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Lyceum  Hall,  it  was 
already  crowded  almost  to  suffocation,  all  the  front  seats 
being  occupied  by  ladies,  and  the  window  sills  by  little 
boys,  with  long  republican  sticks  in  their  hands,  ready 
to  applaud  the  coming  orator.  Neither  Mrs.  Hastings, 
Eulalia,  or  Ildegerte  were  present,  and  Moreland,  for 
reasons  well  known  to  himself,  took  the  most  remote  and 
obscure  corner  of  the  hall.  Dr.  Darley  glided  in  very 
quietly  and  seated  himself  at  his  side,  while  Mr.  Hastings, 
with  a  reddening  brow,  walked  forward  with  slow  and 
measured  tread  to  his  accustomed  place  of  honour  on 
the  platform. 

The  appointed  hour  came  and  passed.  I  eads  were 
constantly  turning  towards  the  door,  shuffl  ag  feet  beto- 
kened impatience,  and  there  was  an  incessant  coughing 
and  hemming  in  the  audience,  as  if  they  were  endea- 
vouring to  fill  up  the  awful  pause  of  expectation.  Some 
accident  must  have  occurred  to  detain  the  orator :  there 
170 


558  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

was  no  use  in  remaining  longer  in  that  close,  oppressive 
atmosphere.  Just  then,  a  commotion  near  the  door 
caused  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling,  the  crowd  divided, 
and  a  tall  and  slender  figure,  of  erect  and  dignified 
mien,  passed  on  towards  the  platform,  ushered  by  the 
obsequious  Mr.  Grimby,  and  followed  bj  a  stout,  brawny 
framed  negro,  black  as  the  shades  of  Erebus.  More- 
land  gave  a  sudden  start,  and  laid  his  hand  on  Dr. 
Darley.  He  understood  the  pressure,  and  smiled.  Yes  ! 
that  was  the  sinewy  arm  which  had  forged  the  weapons 
of  rebellion  in  the  midnight  forge,  which  had  been 
wrapped  in  straining  coil  round  his  master's  form  when 
paralyzed  by  Paul's  avenging  blow.  Yes !  there  were 
the  murky  brow,  the  sullen,  bloodshot  eye,  the  fierce, 
vindictive  mouth,  and  glittering  teeth  of  the  Herculean 
rebel.  But  the  orator  !  Moreland  gazed  upon  his  face, 
doubting  and  bewildered.  Was  it,  could  it  be  the  false, 
hypocritical  Brainard,  thus  transformed  ?  His  hair  was 
short,  and  pushed  far  back  from  his  high,  fair  forehead ; 
Brainard's  long,  sleek,  and  meekly  parted  on  his  brow. 
A  thick,  dark  beard,  clustered  round  his  mouth  and 
chin,  giving  it  a  massy  and  bold  appearance  ;  Brainard's 
was  smooth  and  sharp,  as  little  EfBe's  classic  eye  had  at 
nee  discovered ; — yet  there  was  the  same  half-sheathed, 
steel-like  glance,  and  the  voice,  though  more  clear  and 
"ringing,  had  the  same  false,  silver  sound.  The  garb  of 
the  minister,  the  clothing  of  the  sheep,  were  cast  aside 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         559 

for  the  bolder  lion's  skin,  but  the  wolf  was  apparent 
behind  them  all. 

Moreland's  blood  began  to  seethe  in  his  veins  when 
he  saw  Vulcan,  far  more  embruted  and  animal  in 
appearance  than  when  he  defied  him  over  the  ashes  of 
the  dead,  ascend  the  platform  and  sit  down  side  by  side 
with  his  own  father-in-law ;  when  he  saw  the  vile  im- 
postor, whose  path  had  been  marked  with  the  slime  of 
the  snake,  the  brand  of  the  incendiary,  and  the  steel  of 
the  assassin,  standing  in  that  elevated  position,  the  cen- 
tre of  every  gazing  eye,  assuming  to  be  the  champion 
of  truth  and  humanity,  while  violating  their  most  sacred 
rights.  He  announced  himself  as  a  traveller  recently 
returned  from  the  South,  that  beautiful,  but  accursed 
region,  "where  all  save  the  spirit  of  man  was  divine." 
He  had  had  the  most  abundant  opportunities  of  studying 
and  examining  its  social  and  domestic  institutions,  and 
he  was  prepared  to  lay  the  result  before  an  intelligent 
and  enlightened  community.  He  began  with  the  utmost 
calmness  and  deliberation,  describing  the  delicious  cli- 
mate, the  luxuriant  vegetation,  the  gardens  of  roses, 
the  bowers  of  jessamine,  and  groves  of  orange  trees, 
which  made  an  Eden  of  that  smiling  land.  He  dwelt 
with  enthusiastic  admiration  on  the  grace  and  loveliness 
of  its  daughters,  the  brave  and  gallant  bearing  of  its 
sons,  One  would  have  supposed  that  to  praise  was  his 
only  task;  but  he  was  making  a  flowering  groundwork, 
to  enhance  by  contrast,  the  effect  of  the  hideous  struc- 


560  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

ture  lie  was  about  to  rear  upon  it.  Anon  the  hand  that 
had  been  gently  scattering  roses,  began  to  hurl  the  hiss- 
ing thunderbolt,  and  in  the  wild  and  thrilling  eloquence 
which  succeeded,  Moreland  found  no  difficulty  in  recog- 
nising the  splendid  orator  of  the  African  church.  He 
heard  himself  (for  in  what  other  planter's  home  had  he 
been  so  closely  domesticated  ?)  described  as  a  demon  of 
cruelty,  his  slaves  the  subjects  of  the  most  atrocious 
barbarity,  his  plantation  the  scene  of  horrors  that  baffled 
the  power  of  imagination  to  conceive.  The  clanking 
chain,  the  excoriating  manacle,  the  gashing  scourge,  the 
burning  brand,  were  represented  as  tortures  in  daily, 
nay,  even  in  hourly  use ;  the  shrieks  of  womanhood,  the 
cries  of  infancy,  and  the  lamentations  of  age,  as  no 
more  regarded  than  the  yelling  of  wild  beasts  or  the 
whistling  of  the  wind.  The  audience  was  becoming 
painfully  excited.  Ladies  were  passing  little  bottles 
containing  the  spirits  of  ammonia  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  covering  their  faces  with  their  white  handkerchiefs ; 
men  groaned  audibly,  and  many  a  dark  and  sinister 
glance  was  turned  to  the  dim  corner,  where  the  South- 
ern planter  sat,  unseen  as  yet  by  the  orator  of  the 
night. 

"Hush,  hush!"  whispered  Dr.  Darley  to  the  excited 
and  indignant  Moreland.  "Not  for  worlds  would  I  have 
you  prematurely  interrupt  this  scene.  Wait,  and  you 
shall  have  a  signal  triumph." 

It  was  a  terrible  struggle  with  Moreland,  to  keep 


THE  PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  5G1 

from  rushing  forward  and  hurling  the  "wretch  from  the 
platform,  exposing  him  at  once  to  the  crowd,  whom  he 
was  deluding  bj  his  falsehoods  and  magnetising  by  his 
electrical  eloquence. 

"Behold,"  said  Brainard,  after  having  exhausted,  for 
the  time,  the  vocabulary  of  horrors,  "behold  one  of  the 
poor  victims  of  Southern  barbarity — behold  his  mutilated 
fingers,  his  branded  and  disfigured  body.  Hold  out 
your  hand,  long-suffering  son  of  Africa — and  show  the 
awful  mark  of  your  master's  cruelty." 

Vulcan  stretched  out  his  left  hand,  in  which  the  two 
central  fingers  were  wanting,  making  a  sickening  chasm. 
We  have  already  related  the  accident  which  caused  this 
loss,  as  well  as  the  burn  which  had  left  such  an  enduring 
cicatrice. 

"Look  at  this  poor  disfigured  shoulder,"  continued 
Brainard,  folding  back  the  negro's  shirt-collar  and  dis- 
playing a  terrible-looking  scar  (probably  embellished  by 
a  few  touches  of  reddish  paint).  "  This  is  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  scars  which  seam  and  corrugate  his  whole 
body." 

Groans  and  faint  shrieks  were  now  heard  from  every 
part  of  the  house,  and  again  Dr.  Parley's  restraining 
hand  was  laid  on  Moreland's  quivering  arm. 

"Not  yet,  not  yet !  We  must  hear  the  negro's  story. 
The  climax  is  to  come." 

But,  just  as  Vulcan  opened  his  huge  lips  to  speak,  in 
obedience   to  a  gesture   of  Brainard,  and   people  were 


5G2  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

pressing  forward,  half  standing  in  their  eagerness  to 
catch  every  word  of  the  hideous  speaker,  a  young  man 
forced  his  way  through  the  crowd  in  the  doorway,  and 
rushed  to  the  centre  of  the  hall.  So  sudden  was  his 
entrance,  so  rapid  his  movements,  that  no  one  recognised 
his  colour  till,  slackening  his  pace  and  looking  wildly 
round  him,  he  disclosed  the  bright  yellow  hue  and  dark- 
beaming  eyes  of  the  mulatto. 

"Master,  master,  Mars.  Russell!"  he  exclaimed, 
breathlessly,  pantingly  ;  "where  are  you?  Why  don't 
you  speak,  and  tell  'em  they're  all  lies  ?  Why  don't  you 
tell  'em  it's  Vulcan,  that  tried  to  kill  you,  and  Master 
Brainard,  that  tried  to  make  everybody  kill  you  ?  You 
may  kill  me  if  you  want  to !"  cried  he,  shaking  his 
clenched  fist  at  the  astonished  Brainard.  "I  don't  care 
if  you  do !  I'll  call  you  a  story-teller  and  a  rogue.  I'd 
a  heap  rather  be  killed,  than  stand  still  and  hear  the 
best  master  that  ever  lived  made  out  a  monster  of  a 
brute !" 

It  is  impossible  to  give  the  faintest  conception  of  the 
effect  of  this  impassioned  appeal.  The  young  repub- 
licans in  the  windows  brought  down  their  sticks  like 
rattling  thunder,  while,  high  above  the  din,  several 
voices  were  heard  exclaiming — 

"Put  him  out,  put  him  out !"  and  many  leaped  for- 
ward to  execute  the  order. 

"Stop!"  exclaimed  a  voice  of  command,  and  More- 
land,  without  waiting  to  make  a  passage  through  the 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        563 

people,  sprang  from  bench  to  bench,  till  he  reached  tho 
spot  where  Albert  stood,  directly  opposite  the  platform, 
in  the  full  glare  of  the  lamplight.  With  glowing  cheek 
and  flashing  eye,  he  faced  the  bold,  but  now  pale  impos- 
tor and  cowering  slave,  then  turning  to  the  people — 

"Let  no  one,"  he  cried,  "on  their  peril,  touch  this 
boy.  He  is  under  my  protection,  and  I  will  defend  him 
with  my  life.  He  has  spoken  the  truth.  This  man  is 
a  vile  impostor.  Pretending  to  be  a  minister  of  God, 
he  introduced  himself  into  my  household,  and,  under  the 
cloak  of  religion,  plotted  the  most  damning  designs.  I 
received  him  as  a  friend,  cherished  him  as  a  brother, 
and  obtained  for  him  the  confidence  of  a  generous  and 
trusting  community.  I  blush  for  my  own  weakness ;  I 
pity  the  delusion  of  others.  As  to  the  horrible  charges 
he  has  brought  against  me  and  my  Southern  brethren, 
I  scorn  to  deny  them.  If  you  could  believe  such  atroci- 
ties of  any  man,  your  good  opinion  would  be  valueless  to 
me.  That  you  can  believe  them  of  me,  knowing  me,  as 
most  of  you  now  do,  I  know  it  is  impossible.  Had  he 
been  less  malignant,  he  had  done  me  more  evil." 

"I  have  spoken  the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth," 
interrupted  Brainard,  grinding  his  teeth  with  suppressec1 
rage  ;  "our  black  brother  can  bear  witness  to  all  I  have 
declared." 

But  "our  black  brother"  did  not  seem  disposed  to 
back  his  falsehoods  with  the  boldness  he  had  anticipated. 
Though  brute  force,  roused  by  long- continued  excite- 


564  THE  planter's  northern  bride. 

ment,  had  once  triumphed  over  moral  cowardice,  it  gave 
him  no  sustaining  influence  now,  and  he  shrunk  and 
quailed  before  the  thrilling  eye  of  his  deserted  and  in- 
jured master.  The  influence  of  early  habits  and  feelings 
resumed  its  sway,  and  gleamings  of  his  better  nature 
struggled  through  the  darkness  of  falsehood  and  trea- 
chery. Notwithstanding  the  bluntness  of  his  perceptions, 
he  felt  the  power  of  Moreland's  moral  superiority  over 
Brainard,  and  when  he  found  himself  called  upon  to 
confirm  his  unblushing  lies  in  the  pure  light  of  his  mas- 
ter's countenance,  a  sudden  loathing  for  the  white  man 
who  could  stoop  to  such  degradation,  filled  his  mind ; 
and  a  strong  desire  for  the  favour  he  had  forfeited  and 
the  place  he  had  lost,  stirred  his  heart. 

"Speak,  Vulcan!"  cried  Moreland,  who  had  marked 
the  changes  of  his  dark  face  with  intense  interest, 
"speak!  and  in  the  presence  of  an  all-hearing  God,  say 
if  this  man  utters  the  truth,  or  I." 

"You,  massa,  you!"  burst  spontaneously  from  the 
lips  of  the  negro,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a  portion  of  black- 
ness rolled  away  from  his  face,  with  the  relieving  con- 
sciousness of  having  borne  testimony  to  the  truth. 

"Villain!"  cried  Brainard, — stamping  his  foot,  and 
turning  fiercely  on  the  blacksmith, — "  villain,  you  lie  ! 
you  and  your  master — " 

"Order,  order!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hastings,  who  had 
been  terribly  agitated  during  this  scene.  Before  he 
could  add  another  syllable,  Moreland,  with  one  bound, 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        565 

stood  upon  the  platform,  and  seizing  Brainard  by  the 
arm,  gave  him  a  downward  swing  that  sent  him  reeling 
against  the  living  wall  below.  The  act  was  instantaneous 
as  lightning,  and  the  mimic  thunder  of  the  pounding 
sticks  followed  the  flash.  Brainard  could  not,  at  any- 
time, compete  in  strength  with  Moreland,  and  now, 
when  indignation  nerved  the  arm  of  the  latter,  it  seemed 
to  have  a  giant's  sinews.  Conscious  of  a  great  revul- 
sion of  feeling  in  the  audience,  since  Vulcan's  testimony 
against  him,  he  began  to  feel  the  insecurity  t)f  his  situa- 
tion. Turning  in  desperation  to  the  platform,  like  an 
animal  at  bay, 

"Sir,"  said  he,  addressing  Mr.  Hastings,  "I  appeal 
to  you  for  redress,  and  protection  from  insult  and  out- 
rage. I  appeal  to  this  whole  assembly,  as  a  stranger 
foully  wronged.  I  appeal  to  Northern  justice,  for  de- 
fence against  Southern  insolence  and  aggression." 

For  one  moment,  there  was  a  breathless  stillness, 
awaiting  the  reply  of  Mr.  Hastings.  The  face  of  More- 
land  crimsoned,  and  his  heart  throbbed  audibly.  Would 
Eulalia's  father  throw  the  shield  of  his  protection  round 
this  man  ?     If  so,  they  must  be  for  ever  separated. 

"Sir,"  cried  Mr.  Hastings, — coming  forward  and 
speaking  with  emphasis,  though  in  an  agitated  voice, — 
"  I  have  no  protection  to  offer  an  impostor  and  a  liar 
This  people  have  no  redress  for  one  who  insults  them 
by  asking  it,  in  the  face  of  such  a  shameful  detection. 
He  shall  find  to  his  cost,  that  Northern  justice  will 


566  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

protect  the  South  from   aggressions  and  slanders  like 
his!" 

A  deafening  shout  went  up  as  Mr.  Hastings  con- 
cluded, showing  how  warmly  public  sentiment  was  now 
enlisted  in  the  cause  of  Moreland.  Moreland,  relieved 
from  an  intolerable  dread,  involuntarily  grasped  the 
hand  of  his  father-in-law,  and  pressed  it  with  more 
cordiality  than  he  had  ever  felt  before. 

Where  was  Dr.  Darley  all  this  time  ?  Was  he  a  cool, 
indifferent  spectator  of  this  exciting  scene  ?  By  no 
means.  Look  at  his  keen,  scintillating  eyes,  sparkling 
right  over  Brainard's  shoulder ;  see  the  ignited,  glitter- 
ing particles  they  emit,  and  say  if  he  is  cool, — think  of 
coolness  if  you  can,  in  the  presence  of  that  counte- 
nance of  fire.  He  has  been  biding  his  time,  and  it  has 
come. 

"My  friends,"  said  he, — addressing  Mr.  Hastings 
and  Moreland, — "  may  I  stand  by  you  a  few  moments  ? 
I  have  a  few  words  which  I  would  like  to  say  to  this 
good  people,  if  they  will  permit  me.  I  want  this  man 
to  hear  me,  also," — laying  his  hand  on  Brainard's 
shoulder, — "I  pray  you,"  turning  courteously  to  the 
gentlemen  in  his  rear,  "not  to  suffer  him  to  depart." 

Mr.  Hastings,  who  seemed  quite  inspired  by  the  occa- 
sion, immediately  descending  the  steps,  led  up  Dr.  Dar- 
ley, and  introduced  him  in  the  most  flattering  manner 
to  the  audience,  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished  citizens 
of  the  American  republic. 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         567 

"You  see  before  you  a  plain,  blunt  man,"  said 
the  doctor, — bowing  with  great  dignity  to  the  au- 
dience,— "  as  deficient  as  the  Roman  Antony  in  the 
graces  of  oratory  and  the  flowers  of  rhetoric.  Yet,  I 
am  given  to  making  long  speeches,  and  if  I  chance  to 
inflict  one  on  you,  you  must  impute  it  to  the  force  of 
habit,  rather  than  inclination.  The  man  who  has  ad- 
dressed you  to-night,  and  who  is  a  most  wonderfully 
eloquent  speaker,  is  not  entirely  unknown  to  me.  No 
testimony  of  mine,  however,  is  requisite,  to  add  force  to 
the  words  of  Mr.  Moreland,  whom  I  am  proud  to  call 
my  friend,  whose  hospitality  I  have  experienced,  whose 
domestic  virtues  are  fully  known  to  me,  and  whose  kind- 
ness to  his  black  family  I  have  myself  witnessed  and 
appreciated, — no  testimony  of  mine  is  needed  to  give 
effect  to  the  spontaneous  tribute  paid  by  this  son  of 
Africa  to  his  master's  truth  and  worth.  Your  own 
hearts  have  given  the  verdict,  your  own  consciences 
bearing  witness  to  the  justice  of  the  decree.  But,  I 
said  before,  I  have  some  little  knowledge  of  Mr. 
Howard, —  alias,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brainard, —  alias,  Mr. 
Hiram  Coates." 

"Alias  Ichabod  Jenkins,"  cried  a  voice  from  the  back 
part  of  the  house. 

Brainard  started  as  if  he  had  been  shot,  but  there 
was  no  egress  through  that  mass  of  living  beings. 

"I  doubt  not  that  he  has  innumerable  aliases,"  con- 
tinued the  doctor,  "but  my  present  business  is  with  Mr 


568  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

Hiram  Coates,  who  figured  rather  extensively  in  the 
West  several  years  since.  His  magnificent  forgeries  are 
even  now  the  wonder  of  the  Queen  City,  where  I  reside. 
Now,  if  a  man  is  determined  to  be  a  villain,  I  like  to  see 
him  go  on  a  grand  scale.  If  he  sells  his  soul,  he  should 
set  a  lofty  price.  Gentlemen,  I  recognised  this  indivi- 
dual the  moment  I  beheld  him,  as  the  accomplished 
criminal  who  broke  the  prison  bars  of  the  West,  and 
eluded  the  punishment  of  his  transgressions.  His  after 
course  you  have  learned ;  and  what  his  future  will 
be,  if  his  evil  passions  are  allowed  to  have  scope, 
it  requires  no  prophetic  inspiration  to  tell.  He  is  a 
dangerous,  unprincipled,  and  lawless  man,  who  should 
no  more  be  suffered  to  roam  at  large  than  the  brindled 
tiger  or  the  shaggy  bear.  If  there  is  a  sheriff  present, 
I  call  upon  him  to  arrest  him,  on  my  own  responsibility. 
If  not,  I  call  upon  every  lover  of  the  peace  of  society, 
every  advocate  for  the  rights  of  mankind,  to  assist  in 
securing  him,  till  proper  legal  measures  can  be  taken." 
The  prompt  response  of  the  sheriff,  who  was  present, 
proved  the  alacrity  with  which  he  obeyed  the  summons. 
There  was  no  escape  for  Brainard.  Wherever  he  turned, 
detection  glared  him  in  the  face.  The  individual  who 
had  called  out  "Alias  Ichabod  Jenkins,"  now  came  for- 
ward, and  begged  permission  to  recall  to  the  public  mind 
an  incident  which  occurred  in  the  county  many  years 
since.  He  asked  if  there  were  not  some  present  who 
remembered  a  boy  of  that  name  put  in  the  penitentiary 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.         5G9 

for  theft,  but  whose  sentence  was  mitigated  in  conse- 
quence of  his  extreme  youth,  and  the  influence  of  many 
benevolent  individuals,  who  interested  themselves  largely 
in  his  behalf,  and  defrayed  the  expenses  of  his  collegiate 
education.  He  reminded  them  of  the  notorious  cha- 
racter the  young  man  afterwards  established,  of  his  won- 
derful powers  of  dissimulation,  and  his  successful  vil- 
lany.  For  years  he  had  disappeared  from  public 
notice ;  but  there  he  was,  the  self-same  individual,  and 
he  would  swear  to  his  identity  though  hundred  thousands 
were  present  endeavouring  to  prove  the  contrary. 

It  is  singular,  but  there  are  oftentimes  moments  in 
the  life  of  individuals,  who  have  seemed  to  possess  a 
supernatural  power  of  elusion,  when  an  accumulation  of 
evidence  suddenly  falls  upon  them,  and  they  are  crushed 
as  if  with  a  thunderbolt  from  Heaven ;  when  the  key- 
stone of  the  proud  arch  of  their  iniquity  gives  way,  and 
they  are  buried  beneath  its  ruins. 

As  they  were  bearing  this  man  of  many  aliases  out 
of  the  hall,  he  turned  round,  and  bursting  into  a  sardo- 
nic laugh,  exclaimed — 

"  Fools !  dupes  that  you  are !  who  strain  at  a  gnat 
and  swallow  a  camel !  if  I  had  not  known  your  credulity, 
and  proneness  to  believe  evil  of  your  brethren,  I  never 
should  have  prepared  the  black  and  bitter  pill  ye  have 
been  rolling  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  your  tongue.  You 
had  better  profit  by  the  lesson." 

'Yes,  my  friends,"  said  Dr.  Darley,  as  soon  as  the 


570  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

criminal  bad  passed  through  the  door,  where  the  rabble 
received  him  with  hootings  and  hissings  of  scorn,  "it  will 
be  well  to  profit  by  a  lesson  which,  though  it  comes 
from  a  polluted  source,  may  be  salutary  to  you.  We 
are  too  prone  to  believe  evil  of  others,  to  forget  extenu- 
ating circumstances,  to  put  our  own  consciences  in  other 
men's  bosoms,  to  decide  upon  their  motives  of  action, 
and  shake  them,  at  our  own  will  and  pleasure,  over  the 
borders  of  the  flaming  lake.  I  am  a  man  of  many  faults, 
but  there  is  one  thing  I  claim  as  a  virtue,  and  that  is 
patriotism.  I  love  my  country — my  whole  country.  I 
recognise  no  North  or  South,  East  or  West  in  the  affec- 
tion I  bear  it.  I  find  no  cardinal  points  in  my  heart, 
though  they  are  convenient  to  use  for  geographical  pur- 
poses. Born  in  one  of  the  Middle  States,  I  emigrated, 
in  my  boyhood,  to  the  West.  Since  I  have  been  a  man, 
I  have  devoted  much  of  my  time  to  travelling,  and  stu- 
dying the  great  book  of  mankind.  I  have  learned  to 
respect  the  rights  of  my  countrymen,  wherever  they 
reside ;  to  appreciate  their  virtues,  to  judge  kindly  of 
their  motives  of  action,  and  to  mete  them  with  the  golden 
measure  which  I  would  have  applied  to  myself.  I  have 
learned  to  consider  the  iron  bed  of  Procrustes  as  an 
abomination  of  heathenism,  and  the  shame  of  a  Christian 
land.  I  do  not  believe  that  when  you  and  I  and  the 
whole  congregated  universe  shall  be  arraigned  before 
the  great  God  and  Judge  of  all,  that  he  will  ask  whether 
we  came  from  the  North  or  the  South,  the  East  or  the 


the  planter's  northern  eride.  571 

West  (there  will  be  no  cardinal  points  in  heaven  either) ; 
that  He  will  ask  whether  we  were  born  in  a  free  or  a 
slave  State :  but  whether  we  have  been  faithful  to  the 
responsibilities  imposed  upon  us,  faithful  to  our  own  pe- 
culiar duties ;  whether  we  have  done  all  we  could  to 
advance  the  sum  of  human  happiness,  and  to  promote 
His  sovereign  glory." 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  repeat  all  that  Dr.  Darley  said, 
for  he  spoke  at  least  two  hours,  yet  they  scarcely  seemed 
more  than  two  minutes,  so  intent  was  the  interest  that 
hung  upon  his  words.  Every  one  felt  that  it  was  a 
whole-souled,  whole-hearted,  high-minded  man  who  ad- 
dressed them,  lifted  above  all  party  zeal  or  sectional 
feeling,  acknowledging  the  great  brotherhood  of  human- 
ity, while  respecting  the  distinctions  the  Almighty  has 
made.  The  kindling  eye,  the  earnest  tone,  the  impres- 
sive rather  than  the  graceful  gesture,  the  whole  coun- 
tenance illuminated  with  intelligence  and  sensibility, 
riveted  the  attention  and  made  it  impossible  for  it  to 
Avander. 

There  was  one  present  on  whom  the  events  of  the 
evening  and  the  eloquence  they  elicited  had  a  most 
powerful  and  enduring  influence — and  that  was  Reuben 
Hastings.  He  had  listened  with  unspeakable  indigna- 
tion to  the  false  representations  of  Brainard,  and  with 
difficulty  restrained  himself  from  rushing  forward  as 
Albert  had  done,  in  defence  of  the  slandered  Moreland. 

But  the  youth  of  l^ew  England   are  accustomed  to 


572  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

repress  their  emotions,  and  habits  of  self-control  are 
woven  in  with  the  woof  and  warp  of  their  existence.  At 
his  father's  indignant  denunciation  of  the  impostor,  he 
could  not  help  waving  his  hat  in  the  air,  while  he  pressed 
the  other  hand  on  his  lips  to  hold  back  the  exulting 
hurrah.  Nor  was  he  the  only  one  who  responded  in 
heart  to  Mr.  Hastings's  remarks. 

"That  was  the  best  speech  you  ever  made  in  your 
life,  squire,"  said  Mr.  Grimby  to  him  the  next  day. 
"  You  hit  the  nail  right  on  the  head.  To  tell  the  truth, 
squire,  I  begin  to  think  we  have  been  a  little  too  hard 
on  the  Southern  people.  It  won't  do  to  believe  every- 
thing we  hear.  I  wouldn't  feel  as  cheap  another  time 
as  I  did  last  night  to  be  made  President  of  the  United 
States.  Now,  that  doctor  of  the  West  is  the  right  sort 
of  man.  He  don't  shut  up  one  eye  and  squint  with  the 
other,  but  he  looks  wide  awake  all  round  him,  and  sees 
everything  at  once.  There  ain't  many  men  could  keep 
me  standing  two  hours  on  my  feet  without  knowing  it, 
as  he  did.  We  needed  just  such  a  speech,  and  it  will 
do  us  all  good.  I  tell  you  what,  squire,  if  all  the 
Southern  people  were  like  your  son-in-law,  Mr.  More- 
land,  I  wouldn't  say  one  word  against  them  as  long  as 
I  live." 

"  There  are  few  such  men  anywhere  as  Mr.  More- 
land,"  replied  Mr.  Hastings,  delighted  to  find  that  he 
had  not  injured  his  social  position  by  the  stand  he  had 
taken  the  previous  night.     "You  know,"  he  added,  in 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        573 

a  self-appreciating  tone,  while  his  palms  gave  each  a 
friendly  salute,  "  that  I  made  a  sacrifice,  a  great  sacri- 
fice, when  I  gave  him  my  daughter ;  hut,  like  every  act 
of  self-immolation,  it  has  met  its  reward.  If  ever  woman 
was  happy  in  marriage,  my  Eulalia  is." 

"If  ever  woman  deserved  to  be  happy,  she  does," 
said  Mr.  Grimby.  On  this  the  two  gentlemen  shook 
hands  very  warmly,  and  Mr.  Hastings  seemed  to  be 
attacked  with  a  sudden  cold,  for  he  blew  his  nose  and 
cleared  his  throat  several  times  before  he  continued  the 
conversation. 

Vulcan  humbled  himself  in  the  dust  before  his  master, 
begged  to  be  reinstated  in  his  favour  and  received  again 
into  his  family,  but  this  Moreland  refused. 

"I  forgive  you,  Vulcan,"  said  he,  "but  I  cannot 
place  that  confidence  in  your  fidelity  necessary  to  the 
relation  that  has  existed  between  us.  I  have  always 
said  that  the  moment  one  of  my  slaves  became  rebellious 
in  feeling  to  me,  they  might  go.  I  want  no  unwilling 
service.  You  have  an  excellent  trade,  and,  if  steady  and 
industrious,  can  earn  a  comfortable  living.  If  you  want 
money,  I  will  give  it  to  you.  Come  to  me  if  you  are  in 
trouble,  and  I  will  relieve  you, — but  the  relation  of  mas- 
ter and  servant  must  exist  no  longer." 

Vulcan  had  one  of  those  surly,  animal  natures,  that 
grow  affectionate  and  yielding  under  a  stern,  controlling 
will.     He  had  not  appreciated  his  master's  favour  while 

171 


574  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

basking  in  its  sunshine,  but  now  it  was  withdrawn  for 
ever,  he  crouched  in  abject  submission  at  his  feet. 

"  I  forgive  you,"  again  repeated  Moreland,  "  but  the 
rebel  arm  which  dared  to  lift  itself  against  my  life,  must 
never  more  wield  the  hammer  or  strike  the  anvil  for  me. 
Nothing  can  change  this  resolution.    Go — you  are  free." 

Yulcan  turned  gloomily  away,  cursing  the  tempter 
who  had  lured  him  from  the  white-walled  cabin,  the 
"  old  plantation,"  and  taught  him  to  lift  his  hand 
against  his  once  affectionate  and  indulgent  master. 

The  stirring  events  and  denouement  of  that  memo- 
rable night  furnished  subjects  of  conversation  that  ap- 
peared inexhaustible.  The  result  was  the  diffusion  of  a 
more  liberal,  charitable,  and  enlightened  spirit  in  the 
whole  community.  But  the  change  in  Mr.  Hastings  was 
most  remarkable.  His  very  person  seemed  to  alter. 
His  eyes  looked  larger,  and  his  hair  had  a  more  subdued 
colour.  He  was  constantly  quoting  Dr.  Darley's  opi- 
nions, and  inveighed  with  great  bitterness  against  one- 
sided and  prejudiced  people.  As  Mr.  Brooks  said,  when 
first  describing  him  to  Moreland,  he  always  had  a  hobby, 
which  he  rode  without  mercy.  As  his  last  had  given 
him  such  a  terrible  kick,  he  resolved  to  discard  it,  and 
mounting  another,  it  was  not  long  before  he  was  in  dan- 
ger of  being  carried  as  fast  and  far  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion. He  talked  a  great  deal  about  "  our  visit  to  the 
South"  next  winter,  or  rather  the  winter  after  next,  of 
the  fine  prospects  of  "my  son  Reuben,"  who  was  to  be 


THE   PLANTER'S   NORTHERN   BRIDE.  57^ 

established  there  as  a  lawyer,  under  the  patronage  of 
"  my  son-in-law."  He  even  spoke  of  the  possibility  of 
his  remaining  there  himself,  and  opening  a  classical 
Bchool. 

Shall  we  describe  the  visit  of  the  Northern  family  to 
Eulalia's  Southern  home  ?  Not  minutely,  lest  we  weary 
the  reader  by  recapitulation ;  but  it  was  an  event  unpa- 
ralleled in  interest  in  the  lives  of  our  villagers.  It  was 
long  before  Mrs.  Hastings  yielded  her  consent  to  the 
journey,  well  knowing  that  they  would  be  placed  under 
new  obligations  to  the  generous  and  uncalculating  More- 
land.  But  he  bore  down  at  last  all  her  scruples,  and 
when  he  had  obtained  her  promise  to  accede  to  their 
wishes,  he  insisted  upon  carrying  with  them  the  young 
Dora,  as  a  hostage  of  its  fulfilment. 

When  he  told  Betsy  that  she  must  accompany  the 
family,  as  it  would  not  be  considered  complete  without 
her,  she  shook  her  head,  and  said, 

"  I  thank  you,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  for  not 
being  ashamed  to  ask  me,  but  I  ain't  fit  to  travel  about 
and  wait  on  ladies.  My  place  is  in  the  kitchen,  and  1 
wouldn't  feel  at  home  anywhere  else.  I'd  feel  as  strange 
as  a  fish  out  of  water,  anywhere,  but  where  I  had  to 
knock  about  and  scuffle  with  my  work.  People  gets  used 
to  the  way  they  live,  and,  though  it  mayn't  be  the  best 
way,  it's  hard  to  turn  'em  any  other.  Your  fine  niggers 
don't  make  fun  of  me  here,  'cause  they  see  me  in  the 
right  place ;  but  let  me  stick  up  as  a  lady's  maid,  and 


576  THE   PLANTER  S   NORTIIERN   BRIDE. 

go  among  'em,  I'd  be  the  biggest  laughing-stock  under 
the  sun !" 

Betsy  was  right,  and  Eula,  feeling  that  she  was,  did 
not  endeavour  to  shake  her  resolution.  She  had  too 
much  regard  for  her  feelings  to  wish  to  see  her  in  an 
uncongenial  situation,  where  her  visible  awkwardness 
might  expose  her  to  ridicule,  and  her  innate  worth  be 
undiscovered  or  unappreciated. 

The  family  made  their  visit  in  the  winter  season ;  but 
they  were  not  suffered  to  return  till  they  had  witnessed 
the  beauty  and  magnificence  of  a  Southern  spring, — a 
spring  which  does  not  break  forth  at  once,  in  the  full 
glory  of  the  Northern  season  ;  but  comes  stealing  gentlv 
on  the  scarcely  perceptible  footsteps  of  departing  winter, 
showering  roses,  and  distilling  the  odours  of  Paradise. 
They  were  enchanted  with  the  climate,  the  luxuriant 
vegetation,  the  wilderness  of  blossoms  and  profusion  of 
sweets,  and  even  bondage,  which  at  a  distance  had 
seemed  so  dark  and  threatening,  lightened  up  as  they 
approached  it,  like  the  mist  of  their  valley,  and  receded 
from  their  view. 

They  passed  a  week  at  the  plantation,  from  which  all 
traces  of  the  arch-fiend  Brainard  were  now  removed,  and 
their  respect  and  admiration  for  Moreland  were  height- 
ened, when  they  saw  him  in  his  true  position  of  planter 
and  master,  and  filling  it  with  such  dignity,  firmness, 
and  humanity.  Mr.  Hastings  acknowledged,  that,  if 
all   masters    established    as   excellent   regulations,   and 


the  planter's  northern  bride.  577 

enforced  them  with  the  same  kindness,  wisdom,  and 
decision,  the  spirit  of  Abolitionism  would  die  away  for 
want  of  fuel  to  feed  its  flames.  He  carried  a  memoran- 
dum-book in  his  pocket,  which  he  filled  with  notes,  as 
materials  for  a  new  course  of  lectures,  with  which  he 
intended  to  illuminate  the  prejudices  of  the  Northern 
people.  He  had  relinquished  the  idea  of  the  classical 
school,  believing  that  he  would  not  be  considered  as 
great  a  man  at  the  South  as  in  the  little  village  of  which 
he  had  long  been  the  intellectual  autocrat.  His  son 
Reuben  was  to  remain  as  his  representative,  and  among 
his  parting  injunctions,  while  rubbing  his  hands  with 
serene  self-complacency,  he  warned  him  from  cultivating 
an  illiberal,  narrow  spirit,  and  bade  him  sustain  his 
father's  reputation  for  candour  and  philanthropy. 

Perhaps  some  young,  romantic  girl  may  ask,  "Did 
Ildegerte  never  marry  again  ?"  Perhaps  they  may  wish 
that  Dr.  Darley  were  a  young  man  for  her  sake,  or  that 
he  had  not  devoted  himself  with  such  matchless  con- 
stancy to  the  memory  of  his  buried  wife.  It  is  certain, 
that  Ildegerte  values  his  esteem  and  friendship  now 
more  than  the  admiration  of  more  youthful  men ;  but 
the  time  may  come  when  her  blighted  affections  will 
bloom  afresh,  and  another  fill  the  place  of  the  departed 
Richard.  She  is  still  young  and  very  beautiful,  a 
charming  representative  of  her  native  South,  by  the 
side  of  the  Northern  Eula. 

We  are  loth  to  leave  her,  our  sweet  "  Northern  bride/' 


578  the  planter's  northern  bride. 

now  a  wife  and  mother,  far  happier  than  the  bride ;  but, 
committing  her  to  the  guardianship  and  kindness  of  a 
generous  public,  we  bid  her  farewell. 

We  know  there  are  some  who  will  throw  aside  these 
pages,  with  the  impression  that  they  give  false  and  ex- 
aggerated views  of  Southern  life ;  but,  with  a  conviction 
that  a  God  of  truth  beholds  the  lines  traced  by  the  hand 
which  He  has  formed,  we  give  them  to  the  world.  We 
have  not  gone  groping  in  dark  by-lanes  and  foul  dens 
for  tales  of  horror,  which  might  gratify  a  morbid  and 
perverted  taste ;  but  we  have  described  what  we  have 
seen  and  known,  without  the  intention  of  enhancing 
what  is  fair  or  of  softening  what  is  repulsive.  Wis  be- 
lieve the  Southern  character  to  be  misunderstood,  mis- 
represented, and  wronged,  and  that  it  is  the  duty  of  those 
in  whose  minds  this  conviction  is  rooted,  to  vindicate  it, 
as  far  as  their  influence  extends,  from  calumny  and 
animadversion. 

Not  merely  in  the  expectation  of  honour  or  profit, 
have  we  entered  the  lists  as  a  champion  of  the  South, 
but  from  a  motive  which  we  glory  in  acknowledging. 
We  love  it  as  the  home  of  noble,  generous  hearts,  of 
ingenuous  and  lofty  minds.  We  love  the  magnanimity 
and  chivalry  of  its  sons,  the  pure  and  high-toned  spirit 
that  animates  its  daughters.  Shall  we  dwell  in  its  beau- 
tiful bowers  and  see  the  canker-worm  eating  into  the 
heart  of  its  blossoms,  without  reaching  out  a  hand  to 
rescue  their  bloom  from  the  destroyer  ?    Shall  we  breathe 


THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.        579 

its  bland,  delicious  climate,  and  know  that  the  noxious 
miasma  is  rising  and  spreading,  without  endeavouring 
to  disperse  its  exhalations,  or  trying  to  counteract  its 
deadly  influence  ?  We  love  the  North — 

Land  of  the  wild  and  wintry  blast, 
Of  spirits  high  and  glowing, 

of  minds  exalted  and  refined,  of  hearts  steadfast  and 
true ;  even  its  snows  and  icicles  are  dear  to  our  bosom  ; 
but  it  needs  no  champion  to  assert  its  uninvaded  rights. 
Enthroned  on  its  granite  hills,  it  reigns  in  unmolested 
grandeur  and  serene  repose.  No  volcanic  elements  are 
heaving  under  its  wintry  shroud,  or  threatening  to  lay 
waste  its  summer  bloom.  But,  should  the  burning  lava 
of  anarchy  and  servile  war  roll  over  the  plains  of  the 
South,  and  bury,  under  its  fiery  waves,  its  social  and 
domestic  institutions,  it  will  not  suffer  alone.  The  North 
and  the  South  are  branches  of  the  same  parent  tree,  and 
the  lightning  bolt  that  shivers  the  one,  must  scorch  and 
wither  the  other. 


TIIE   END. 


